Slumbering Swan Extended
by lmhsfan
Summary: Neurologist/Knight in shining armor Edward Cullen is called upon by a tiny fairy to save a damsel in distress. Disney makes it look so easy. First place Judge's Choice in the Who Doesn't Love a Fairy Tale? Contest!
1. Slumbering Swan

**AN: This was my entry for the Who Doesn't Love a Fairy Tale? Contest. I got First Place Judge's Pick (Third Place Votes, but it was soooo close, so I feel good about it). They gave me an adorable, spiffy banner, linked on my page if you're interested.**

**PenName:** lmhsfan  
**Title:** Slumbering Swan  
**Which fairytale inspired you:** Sleeping Beauty (the Disney version)  
**Rating & Any Needed Warning:** M for some language, sadness, and caution.  
**Word Count:** Originally, 10,000 (but please see note below)  
**Pairing:** Edward/Bella  
**Summary:** Neurologist/Knight in shining armor Edward Cullen is called upon by a tiny fairy to save a damsel in distress. Disney makes it look so easy.  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own Twilight or Sleeping Beauty, though sometimes I think we have a lot in common.

_**Please Read: I have added over 2,000 words to this since the contest, including Alice's story. Also, it was given a good once-over by the lovely and talented clarabella75 (who I found on the FFA Forums on FB!). So, if you read the O/S and liked it, this is even better! (In my humble opinion) **_

* * *

It all started on a plane. That's where I first saw her. She couldn't have looked more disinterested, with her quiet sighs and vacant expression. Then again, who was ever interested in the Olympic Peninsula? Dreary, gray small-town life was enough to get anyone depressed. Still, the frowns seemed out of place; hers was a face that should be smiling. Her eyes should have been twinkling. Her laughter should have echoed off the cheap tin walls. I desperately wanted to remedy the situation.

I had it all planned out, too. I would sit down in the empty seat next to her and reach out to shake her hand. She would be self-conscious because her nails were obviously bitten, but I wouldn't care. Her hands would be soft and maybe just a little cold in mine. I would want to warm them. Over the course of our short flight, she would tell me about her life and what brought her here in the first place, maybe even why she was so unenthusiastic about it.

At some point, she would laugh and her long brown hair would fall into her eyes, hiding them from me. Finding this unacceptable, I would reach out to tuck it behind her ear, and she would blush while she looked up at me from under those lashes. The cabin was too dim to see her exact eye color, but they were dark. I imagined them as deep brown windows to her soul. When this puddle-jumper finally landed, she would have given me her number so that I could take her out, distract her from this place and the tedious errand that brought her here. As we said our goodbyes, she would make me promise to call and I would reassure her with a gentle kiss on the forehead. That is how it would go.

Of course, that is how it _would _have gone if she hadn't had earbuds in the entire trip. Or so I told myself.

Yes, I was a coward.

As it was, she only glanced at me once, and it was brief. I may have been staring, and she may have blushed a little, but that could easily have been my imagination. I tried to keep myself occupied after that – I didn't want to scare her with my blatant ogling – but the latest medical journals went wholly unread while she was just across the aisle. I never turned a single page. And she only one made one sound: a tiny gasp as we landed.

I wanted to reach out and hold her hand, run my fingers through her hair and tell her everything would be all right. But I didn't. I just stared. I stared until she caught me and offered a tight, apologetic smile. She thought she had disturbed me. I beamed back at her, wanting her to know that she could disturb me any day. She turned away so quickly, it gave _me_ a little bit of whiplash. As she collected her bags, I noticed that her face had become splotchy and her nostrils flared. What had I done to upset her? Confused, and just a little wary, I let her pass in front of me to exit the plane. At least she couldn't say I wasn't a gentleman.

Outside, it seemed that every one of my childhood heroes was present: Police Chief Charlie Swan; Billy Black, chief of the Quileute tribal council; and of course, my own father, Carlisle Cullen, chief of medicine at the Forks hospital. It took them all standing together for me to realize that they were all chiefs. But my favorite member of the welcoming party had to have been my little sister Alice. At only five years old, she was easily my biggest hero. After all she'd been through, there she was smiling in her little pink tutu.

"Edward!" she called. "Edward! Edward! You're home! I missed you so bad!"

As soon as my feet touched the pavement, little Alice ran forward and launched herself into my waiting arms. I spun her until she squealed for me to stop. Then I took a breath and spun some more.

"All right, Edward," Carlisle warned as he approached. "She's going to be sick if you keep that up, and I know I'm not going to be the one to clean it."

"Sorry, Dad, but she's getting so big. How much longer will I be able to twirl my little princess?"

"No, Edward! I'm not a princess anymore; I'm a fairy. Princesses don't where tutus." Alice told me matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry. Maybe we should get you a wand or some wings or…" I trailed off when I noticed my father shaking his head and waving his arms frantically behind her back.

"I have a invisible wand! Duh! An' you can't jus' _buy me _wings; I have to _earn _them! What d'ya think I am, a cheater fairy?"

"Isn't it angels…"

"Ahem," Carlisle coughed, effectively halting my comment.

"Edward," Alice whispered and beckoned me down to secret-telling level. "Edward, I think that lady is a princess."

I followed her gaze over to the beauty from the plane. And I had to admit, aside from the jeans and t-shirt, she could easily have passed for a princess. There was something about the lines of her face, the contours of her neck, that gave the impression of grace. Though not a typical beauty by modern standards, she had an ethereal presence, like someone you would see illustrated in a fairy tale as opposed to modeling in a magazine. Not to mention her very prestigious entourage. I'm sure the chief's cruiser was as good as a royal carriage to Alice's imagination.

"Know what, little fairy? I think she might be a princess too."

oOoOo

Three days went by before I saw my princess again. Actually, it was Alice that spotted her in the produce section, picking through berries and humming to herself. She was wearing a dark blue v-neck that not only gave me a better glimpse at her fair skin but complemented it perfectly. The word 'lovely' came to mind, but I dismissed it quickly. I had been spending way too much time watching Disney lately.

"I knew she was a princess," Alice whispered next to me.

"What do you say to some apples?" I asked, already pulling her forward. If Alice didn't want apples, I would eat them.

From this vantage point, I could watch the woman's every move as she picked first through the blackberries, then the blue, humming all the time. Every once in a while, she would close her eyes and hum just a little more loudly, as if the song had taken her away from the supermarket. Soon, I was humming right along with her, almost involuntarily. At first, she didn't seem to notice, but when I got bold and started actually singing the words, she gasped and turned to look at me.

"I'm sorry," I sputtered. "I was just getting some apples, and I couldn't help but hear and…"

"It's okay," she laughed nervously. "You just scared me. I didn't expect a stranger to start a duet with me in the grocery store."

"But I'm not a stranger."

She looked at me, perplexed and just a little apprehensive.

"You don't remember? We were on the plane together from Sea-Tac to Port Angeles. You got mad at me for smiling at you? I never did figure that out."

"Oh wow," she blushed. "Sorry about that, it's just… In my experience, when a guy like you smiles like that it's because he's laughing at me."

"A guy like me?"

"Yeah, you know, good-looking, reading a textbook…."

She'd noticed what I was reading? And said I was good-looking? I wanted very much to stop myself from looking pleased with her assessment, but I'm not so sure I succeeded.

"My brother is a knight!" Alice chimed in, most unhelpfully.

"A knight, huh?" The woman lifted an eyebrow as she looked me up and down. "Figures."

"I never said that!" I defended. "I've never made myself out to be a hero."

"He saves people from evil curses," Alice continued. "He goes all over and breaks spells so that people can wake up. But not by kissing them, right Edward? 'Cause that only works on princesses, and he never met another one before y–"

"I'm a neurologist," I explained while covering Alice's mouth, "specializing in coma victims. Eww! Alice!" I wiped my hand on my pant leg after Alice had licked it. Gross little kindergartner.

"Are you a princess?" She eagerly asked the woman.

She giggled and bent down to Alice's level, taking in her outfit. Today she had gone with a sparking purple tutu and matching puffy-sleeved t-shirt. "No, little fairy, I am not a princess. I'm just a girl who likes to pick berries."

"How did you know she wasn't a princess?" I asked, a little annoyed that this woman had deciphered Alice's persona right away.

"Because princesses don't wear tutus," she said with a wink and started to walk toward the checkout lanes. "Goodbye, Edward."

"Hey, wait! You never told me your name," I shouted after her.

"No, I didn't," she called back.

"Well, what is it?" We had an audience now, but I didn't care. Small towns need gossip, right?

"I'll tell you later."

"Tomorrow?" I had to yell; she just kept getting farther and farther away.

"Tonight!" I barely heard her. "The diner! At seven!"

"Seven!" I announced, though I knew she couldn't hear me.

Alice and I finished shopping in record time. I made sure to get everything on my mother's list, but didn't linger over brand and price comparisons. I was sure she'd understand. After all, it wasn't often that her solitary workaholic son ever took an interest in a woman – let alone one this close to home. I grinned like an idiot in the checkout line just picturing my mother's face when I told her I'd be transferring from Chicago.

Was I really considering a transfer already?

People always said that women were the romantic thinkers, but it occurred to me then that men might actually be more dedicated to the idea. It may take them a while to admit it, but when a man meets _her_, he knows. He just… knows. Flowers, chocolates, and candlelit dinners are just tools in the never ending quest to make her see that. In my opinion, the fact that men don't need or even want those things – though they do them to please women anyway – only proved that they were the most romantic. Men don't fall in love with moonlight and roses; they fall in love with women.

So, would I transfer back to Washington after just one date with a woman that wouldn't even tell me her name?

If she lived to one-tenth of my expectations, then yes. In a heartbeat.

It was nearly five p.m. by the time we got home, so I planned to drop the groceries and run. I needed to shower and shave and practice some witty banter in the mirror – not that I planned to tell anyone that – before heading over to the diner. I wanted to get there early so I could watch my girl arrive. Her hair would blow in the breeze of the open doorway. Maybe she'd be wearing a skirt and that would whip around her legs as well, giving me a little glimpse of those delectable thighs. And if it was chilly enough, it might even get a bit nipply in there. Of course I would be a gentleman and not stare… once she saw me that is. A man could only dream.

Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. My sister-in-law, Rosalie, the wicked witch herself, was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Good evening, Edward. Alice."

"Rose." I nodded.

"I'm hurt," she gasped, dramatically clutching her chest. Plastic, might I add. "You've been here five days, and we've yet to hang out. I already know you went out drinking with my husband. Were you ever planning to invite _me_ over?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "Tomorrow is my going away again dinner. You can come with Emmett."

"Well, I did have a gift for you, but now I'm not so sure. I think maybe Bella will be magically unavailable."

"Bella, huh? Another _beautiful woman _from your yoga class?"

"Are you insinuating that my friends aren't beautiful?"

"Rose, if I wanted what Tanya was selling, I'd have just taken one of Alice's Barbies."

"No!" Alice cried.

"Okay, so Tanya is a little different…" Rose conceded.

"Different," I snorted.

Tanya had been a living, breathing doll. Most of her was made in China, and she had no conversational skills. Although the few things she did say before I'd managed to escape were very much in line with that Barbie song. "Undress me, Edward. Touch me. Fuck me. We're going to have _soo _much fun together."

"Well that was Christmas," Rose continued. "This time, I have someone I know you'll like. Esme is already planning your wedding."

"Mom is already planning Alice's wedding."

"Well, at least come out and meet her. We're going out for coffee, and I'd love to introduce you two."

"Can't do it."

"Oh come on, Edward. I swear she's not another Tanya. She's totally Emmett approved."

"So? You're Emmett approved. Besides, I can't. I already have plans."

"Fashion show with Alice?"

"Oo.. Can we?" Alice started bouncing up and down on whatever spring she had hidden in her sneakers.

I turned to Rosalie. "Now _you _get to do a fashion show, because I have somewhere to be."

"You're going to regret this, Edward," Rose called to my fleeing back. "Mark my words! Soon you're going to realize that you should have treated me better. But by then, it'll be too late, and you'll be sorry."

"But not tonight." I turned back. "Tonight, I have a date with a princess."

oOoOo

That night, I got stood up by a princess.

I sat down at six forty-five and didn't move until they kicked me out at nine. She never came. At first, I wanted to believe the best of my mystery woman. I assumed that something had happened, that circumstances had been beyond her control and she'd had no way of contacting me.

And then of course, I remembered that she had left me in the produce section with nothing but a time and a memory. Not only did she not give me a number, but she had purposely withheld her name. What could I do without that? Ask around for a young brunette? There were at least a dozen of those just at the diner. The only thing I had to go on was that the two chiefs had picked her up at the airport, but there could have been any number of reasons for that. Anyway, she obviously didn't want to be found. She probably went out that night and had a good laugh about the loser from the grocery store.

Rosalie did nothing but gloat the next night at dinner.

"Bella and I had so much fun yesterday, Edward. It's too bad you couldn't join us. How was your date again? Oops, sorry. Forgot."

Stupid bitch.

Needless to say, I was more than happy to be flying out the following morning. And instead of taking the puddle jumper to Sea-Tac, I left ridiculously early in a cab. I knew that the odds of her leaving on the same day and at the same time that I was were slim, but I just didn't want to chance it; thus far, fate had proven cruel.

When my plane landed in Chicago, I saw that I had five missed calls – the first of which had occurred fifteen minutes after takeoff. Four of them were Rosalie, and I fully intended to ignore them. The last was from my father's office at the hospital. Before my phone had even finished waking up, I was receiving call number six. Rosalie again. I was sure to hit 'Ignore' instead of 'Silence'. This way, when she got the voicemail after two rings, she would know she was being avoided.

It took a few minutes, but my messages eventually loaded. Almost fifty texts from my sister-in-law and four voicemails. The only thing that kept me from ignoring them completely was the fact that one of them might have been my father. Of course, that could also have been a ploy of Rosalie's to get me to answer the phone, but I checked them just in case.

"Message One," the robotic female told me.

"Edward, if you're still at the airport, come back. Now. This is serious." Rosalie had used her demanding voice.

The next message, while less commanding, was still incredibly stern. "I'm assuming you're on the plane right now. Please call me back as soon as you land."

Message three was an hour later and her tone was awfully similar to panic. "My friend got into an accident, Edward, and I need your help. It's all my fault. We went for coffee and then…" She sniffled, then broke down. "She won't wake up, Edward! I don't know what to do. It's all my fault. It's all my fault." The message ended with some jostling as someone, probably my mother, made soothing sounds in the background.

"Edward, this is your father." The final message started. "One of Rosalie's friends, Bella, is here in the hospital with us. She was in an accident two nights ago and has yet to regain consciousness. I've tried explaining that forty-eight hours is not an exorbitant amount of time, but you're the coma expert, and Rosalie won't listen to anyone but you. No one expects you to fly out and personally attend to the girl, but it would put your sister at ease if you could at least call and tell her all this yourself. We'll be expecting your call."

I ended the call to voicemail feeling both guilty and strained. On one hand, I felt bad for ignoring my sister when she was clearly dealing with a crisis. On the other hand, there really wasn't anything I could do. If Bella had been in a coma for less than forty-eight hours, there was nothing to indicate that medical intervention would be needed or even possible. The mind might choose to shut down that long for nothing more than to manage pain.

The only help I could offer would be to do what my father had suggested: call Rosalie and attempt to assuage her fears. If it made her feel better, I would discuss the specifics of the case with my father and her other doctors regarding Bella's overall condition. Surgical procedures, CAT scan results, the amount of blood lost – all could be used to estimate a wake-up date for Rosalie's friend, and that would go a long way toward easing her mind.

Before I could make the call, however, a fifth voicemail came through. Though it was probably just Rosalie fuming over the ignored call, there was also a slight chance that there had been an update on Bella's condition, and I wanted all available information before I called anyone back. But instead of an angry sister or a medical miracle, I heard the one thing that always caused me to pause: little Alice's voice.

"Edward? Am I leaving a message? I don't… Edward, if you hear me… You hafta come back and break the spell. You're the only one that can do it."

I ran my fingers through my hair in frustration. I wanted, very badly, to turn around and be the knight in shining armor my little sister thought me to be, but I had a career to think of, and flying across the country to take care of my least favorite sister's friend wasn't any good for it. Besides, there was nothing I could do. If I went back now, it would only lead to disappointment.

There was jostling on the line as Rosalie came looking for her phone, Alice obviously hiding it. I thought the time would run out and the message would end there, but soon I heard little breaths on the line as Alice prepared to speak again, her voice dropped down to a whisper.

"It's the princess, Edward. Bella is the princess." _Alice, who are you talking to? Give me the phone. I need to call Emmett._

"To delete this message, press seven. To save–"

I hung up without listening to my options. I had enough to think about.

Bella, Rosalie's Bella, was the girl from the grocery store. Rosalie's Bella, the girl from the grocery store, was in a coma. A coma she'd sustained the night of our date, after she and Rose had gone for coffee without me. The accident had probably occurred as she drove home from the bistro, maybe even as she'd been on her way to see me.

My phone rang again while I processed this, and I answered without even checking to see who it was.

"I'll be there in less than eight hours."

oOoOo

It had taken nearly $400 of additional fees and upgrades, but I was in my parents' car in less than six hours, my mother at the wheel.

"Thank you for coming back, Edward. I know this will mean a lot to your sister… Although, I can't help but wonder why you're really here."

"What do you mean?" Though I knew better, I prayed that feigning ignorance would save me. But Esme Cullen could never be considered a fool.

"I know you, son. And I know a thing or two about your work as well. It's been two days, hardly long enough to cause a panic, especially in you. You're internationally known for your coma research, and – sister or no sister – this case isn't something you would normally take on, let alone drop everything for. So… are you going to tell me what's really happening here, or are you going to make me use your middle name?"

"I'll tell you, Mom. Just… not right now, okay? I'm still trying to get a handle on it myself."

"All right, Edward. Whenever you're ready." She reached over and squeezed my hand, a superior smirk on her face.

_Whatever that's about._

I took a quick nap in the car to make up for having woken up so early – it seemed stupid to have done so now. In no time, my mother had dropped me off at the hospital entrance, and a drooling Nurse Cope was staring blankly at me instead of telling me which room my princess was in.

"Shelly!" I hadn't meant to be terse, but my patience was wearing thin. In any case, she didn't seem too bothered.

"Oh… what? Um…last name, Dr. Cullen?"

_Shit! _I didn't know her last name. "I'm not sure. Just… Bella."

Nurse Cope just stared again, seemingly in pain. Why wasn't she telling me where to go? God, how many Bella's could there be in this town?

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen, but as you are not a member of our staff, I can't just let you back there if you don't even know her last name." She really did look as if she regretted withholding the information.

_Okay, Cullen. You can do this. _"Miss Cope," I purred in a low voice and leaned as close as the waist high counter would allow. "My father, the chief of medicine at this hospital, has called me to assist him on this case. Unfortunately, he did not have time to give me all of the details. Won't you please call him at least, and inform him that I have arrived." I smiled as charmingly as I could muster. The last time I had intentionally done this was high school. Not that it was really necessary then; I'd just thought I was cool.

"Oh, really? Well then, I don't see why… Room 335." The farthest room, in the longest corridor, on the highest floor in the building. Naturally. Perhaps there was a trellis I could climb as well.

"Thank you, Nurse. As always, it was such a pleasure to speak with you." The old woman's cheeks flushed, and I congratulated myself on not being entirely out of practice. _Not bad, Cullen. _Then again, she had been an old divorcée – it probably didn't take much to make Shelly Cope blush. _Details._

My father was waiting for me in his street clothes when I stepped off the elevator, looking worn but not too concerned. My guess was that Rosalie had caused him more strain on his weekend off than Bella's condition. My sister-in-law was a master at making any and everything about herself.

"Come on, Edward. You're just in time for a bedtime story." He led me stand outside of the room at the end of the hall where a blue, sequined disco ball – sometimes known as Alice – was sitting in bed next to a sleeping beauty. My beauty.

_My Bella._

I moved to enter, but my father held me back.

"Listen," he urged.

"…nothing to worry about, princess. Edward will save you. Edward can save everybody. You know how I know that, princess?" She paused as if wishing for Bella to answer. "A'cause Edward saved me too.

"My first mommy always keeped me in a closet. She said, 'Mary is a bad girl and should always be hiding.' But I don't like hiding, princess. Hiding is scary. I di'nt mean to be bad, but I was. When I was Mary, I was always bad, an' I always hadda be hiding."

I tried to move forward again, to soothe my sister's quiet sobs, but my father tightened his grip.

"Let her tell it, Edward," he whispered through tears. In fact, the only dry eyes I could see were Bella's, but she couldn't hear what we could. Until that day, we'd thought that Alice had repressed everything that had happened before we found her. This was the first time any of us had heard her speak about it.

"When I was Mary," Alice continued, "I always wished an' wished an' wished that maybe my daddy would save me. I never saw my first daddy, but he was always looking for me. I heared him yelling my name, an' looking everywhere! But Mommy said I should always be quiet when I was hiding. Super secret spy," she whispered as if she were back in that closet. "I didn't want Mommy to be mad at me, but I wished an' wished that he would find me anyway a'cause Mommy was always mad an' making me hide.

"He never finded me, though, princess. My daddy never saved me. But one day, I did like you. I felled asleep in my closet and di'nt wake up for a long time. When I finely waked up, Edward was kissing me. That's how you save a princess – you kiss her. He kissed me an' I waked up an' he said that I was saved. I asked if he was my daddy an' he looked so scared, princess. Like his mommy told him to hide. But he telled me he was just a'posed to save me so he could give me to my real mommy an' daddy.

"I was scared, princess. I was so scared that I was gonna be bad again by assident an' my new mommy would make me hide an' no one would know where to find me! But Edward said that my first mommy and daddy were bad. My mommy was a wicked witch an' my daddy was a ogre. That's why I never seed him. Mary isn't even my name! Isn't that crazy, princess?

"Edward told me my real name is Alice. He says that Alice is a princess name an' princesses don't be bad by assident, an' they never have to hide 'cause they live in stories that end with 'happily ever after'. An' then Mommy and Daddy came, an' we play an' have fun, an' they never make me hide! An' they told me all about knights an' princesses. I'm a esspert now. 'Cept I get it wrong sometimes. Sometimes I think Aunt Rosalie is a witch, but Uncle Emmett says it's just a monthly curse."

She paused, possibly contemplating the likelihood of a "monthly curse". Then again, we had yet to tell her about werewolves.

"But Bella is a princess name," she concluded. "I can tell. An' Edward saves princesses. He's gonna kiss you, you'll see. Edward will save you."

"Come on, little one." My father walked around me to retrieve Alice. I was still too stunned to move. I'd thought that she didn't remember – she had barely been three years old.

"Why didn't you tell me that story, Alice?" I couldn't help but ask.

"A'cause you were there. Duh!" she giggled. "An' I don't like to talk about First Mommy. It makes everybody sad, an' I wanna live in a happy story."

"Then why did you tell it to Bella?"

"I thought it would make her feel better if she knowed that you would rescue her soon." Alice explained. "An' that you would be a real good husband when she wakes up!"

"Did Mommy tell you to say that?"

"No, she telled me to say, 'You're not gettin' any younger, Edward,'" she scowled and waggled her finger in a seriously good Esme impression for a five year-old.

"Duly noted," I chuckled and kissed her forehead. "But it's past your bedtime, isn't it King Carlisle?"

"Indeed it is, Sir Edward."

"But I wanna watch Edward wake up the princess. Please, Daddy. It only takes a minute to kiss."

"Alice…" my dad started unsure of what to say.

And what could he say? That Bella wasn't a princess? That I wasn't a knight? That what she thought of as the kiss that saved her was really nearly five minutes of CPR?

"Adults prefer to do their kissing in private," he blurted.

Alice pouted and was clearly about to protest, when I thought of something else.

"It might take a long time for her to wake up after I kiss her. Three days, maybe."

"Three days?" she gasped disbelievingly. "Are you sure you can't do any better than that?"

"I'll see what I can do, little prin…fairy."

"Okay," she yawned as my father carried her toward the elevator.

"I'll take her down to the cafeteria. I think that's where Rosalie is." He didn't want to go over Bella's chart with Alice there – that couldn't be good. "Emmett loves the pudding here…" he mused. "Strange man."

"Wait! Edward!" Alice called when my father bent to push the elevator button. He let her down and she ran to hug around my thighs. "I decided that I'm still a princess. I'm just a fairy too."

"A fairy princess," I confirmed with a nod, then knelt down to her eye level. "But I want you to know, little Alice: No matter what you decide to be, you can still live happily ever after."

"An' Mommy an' Daddy an' you an' Emmett will still love me." It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact. And I was so proud of her.

"Yes." I hugged her tightly. "Forever."

I took the time my father was away to take a look at the vital stats on the clipboard. Everything looked to be in perfect working order. Aside from the coma, Isabella Marie Swan was in exceptional health. Of course, I would have to take a look at all her test results, but I saw no reason for her coma to last more than the three days I'd promised Alice.

_Please don't make me break a promise to that little girl. _I wasn't sure to whom I prayed: a god above or the goddess that lay before me. Either way, I hoped she would cooperate. Something told me that she would – if it was within her power to do so. She was just too beautiful to be a bad person. And it wasn't just her exquisite body or angelic face; there was a beautiful soul behind those eyes. I had seen it, just as I'd predicted I would that first time I saw her.

She was innocent, pure. Maybe not in the strictest sense – she _was _a friend of Rosalie's – but I was sure that she had loved or at least had deep feelings for any man she'd been with. She probably swore from time to time, and I knew firsthand how diabolically flirtatious she could be, but those were hardly cardinal sins. No, my guess was that Isabella Swan had never intentionally hurt anything more sentient than a fly.

As I observed her vulnerable form, my hand automatically found its way to her hair. I smoothed as many of the tangles as I could and tucked it away. It was almost tragic the way doctors and nurses would move an unconscious body when needed, and I didn't want there to be evidence of that when her family came. She should look as though everyone held the same amount of reverence for her as I did. I straightened out her hospital gown as well, completely ignoring the body underneath – not an easy feat, but she deserved complete respect.

When I was sure she was looking her best, I tucked her tightly into the blankets, leaving her arms out for easy access. I ran my hand over hers – just to be sure she wasn't cold, of course. Tracing along the veins of her forearm, I eventually came to the IV on the inside of her elbow. My fingers skimmed the edge of the tape on their way past, mourning the tiny scars that would dot her perfect skin. Too soon, I was out of arm, and out of lame excuses to touch her. In their absence, there was only desire, and I could not stifle it. Gently, I brought the back of my fingers to her cheek and brushed, ever so lightly. It was all wrong though. These cheeks should have been pink with the blush of life, but they were just as white as the rest of her.

"Hands up, dirt bag!" Someone yelled behind me.

Instinctively, I raised my arms above my head, feeling guilty that I had dared to touch her. After a moment though, I remembered that I was not, in fact, a criminal and started to turn around.

"Nice and slow," he said. I now recognized the voice as belonging to Chief Swan. Swan…

_Oh! _"Chief Swan! I was just-"

"On the ground!"

"What?"

"I said, on the ground! Now!"

"Listen, this is just a misunder-"

"Charlie? Edward? What's going on here?" My father had come back to the room. Just in time, in my opinion.

"Edward?" Charlie questioned. "Your boy?"

"Yes." My father and I both answered.

I heard some shuffling behind me, and the tension in the room seemed to ease quite a bit. I stayed where I was though, hands up and back to the door, just in case.

"Sorry about that, Edward." Charlie clapped a hand on my shoulder, urging me to turn around. "I thought you went home this morning."

"I came back."

Charlie nodded as I said this, but as soon as it sunk in, he turned a panic-stricken face toward my father. "You called Edward back from Chicago? What's wrong, Carlisle? I thought you said everything looked normal and she'd be awake in a few days."

"She will, Chief," I told him. "I'm just doing this as a favor to my sister. Rosalie takes a yoga class with your daughter and…" I trailed off when I saw the look of utter confusion on his face.

"Bella doesn't take a yoga class. She'd have been in here a lot sooner if she did," he chuckled.

"You'd have to move to Seattle," my father added with a smirk of his own. "Forks General doesn't have those kinds of resources."

"I don't understand."

"Bella is a frequent flyer, Edward. Although, I think that this is the first time she ever actually came in on the bus."

"She's a klutz," Charlie clarified. "You name it, she broke it or cut it open at some point. She's had lots of accidents," he choked out, looking down at his daughter, "but never anything like this. I can't… You have to help her, Dr. Cullen. If anyone can, it's you."

I had expected him to be looking to my father as he said this, but when Charlie turned his head, I saw that this statement was directed at me. I was Dr. Cullen now to one of my childhood heroes. As if I wasn't under enough pressure already.

"I'll do what I can, Chief," I promised.

"She's in good hands, Charlie," my father assured. "We'll just give you a minute." He steered me away from Bella's room and into a vacant suite to give me all the pertinent details regarding her condition. Unfortunately, there really weren't any.

"It's the damnedest thing, Edward," he told me. "There were no apparent injuries, so we ended up shotgunning the labs."

"And?"

"Nothing. Her MRI shows nothing but past trauma, no swelling, nothing from tox, no indicators of significant pain, not even a micro-fracture. Steady heart rate, brain waves, good levels – Bella is in perfect health. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was asleep."

"Maybe it's psychologically induced," I offered. "She was overwhelmed by excitement and fainted."

"For two days?"

"It's all we have," I shrugged.

"If that's the case, how do we know when she'll wake up? _If _she'll wake up?"

"Faith," I told him. "All we have is faith." _And a promise I made to a sad little girl._

I fell asleep in the on-call room that night, looking over Bella's charts and test results. Technically, I was supposed to wait until morning when the proper paperwork could be filed to allow me on her case, but procedure could be damned as far as I was concerned. Besides, Chief Swan had given me permission. So unless I killed her – which I would rather die than do – no one was going to complain about my involvement.

Although her past injuries were numerous – almost laughably so – my father had been correct: there was absolutely nothing wrong with Bella Swan except that she was in a coma. But no one wanted to hear that, especially not from a supposed coma expert. I didn't feel much like an expert, though. More like a glorified researcher. That's all I ever did, really. I pored over case studies until I was able to link effects with their causes and form subsequent treatment plans. I could read a brain scan like a book at this point. But my experience would do me no good here; Bella's head was mysteriously devoid of evidence. I had three days in which to wake her with absolutely nothing to go on. Great.

On the first day, I did nothing. Almost literally. I was added to Bella's list of doctors and cleared to make any and all decisions regarding her treatment. Unfortunately, there wasn't any treatment – and I wasn't cleared to help with any other non-emergency patients – so I spent the morning staring at her face and praying a lot. I stood in her room all day, only leaving to eat or use the toilet. And though I knew there would likely be no change while I was gone, I seriously considered combining the acts in order to get back to her faster. Stupid human needs.

I took lunch during Charlie's visit, offering some privacy, and when I came back, there was a young man in the room. He was crying and clutching Bella's hand like a lifeline. Her boyfriend? No. I refused to believe that Bella would have accepted a date with me were she otherwise attached. Or that Rosalie would have tried to set us up. Where was Rosalie? I left the man to his process and went to call my sister. Two rings and then voicemail – she had purposely ignored my call.

When I got back to the room, the man was gone, though he'd left a vase of roses. The card was signed from Billy and Jacob Black. Had that been Jacob Black, future chief of the Quileute tribe? My girl had friends in high places.

My father came in for the evening shift and urged me to go home. What he didn't realize was that my home was with Bella now. Everything I needed – food, a bed, a shower – could be found here at the hospital. Anything more was extraneous and easily traded for time with my princess.

On the second day, Jacob came back. This time with bigger flowers, balloons, and a whole stack of cards. I heard him telling her how silly it all was.

"It's not like you can see it," he said. "And as soon as you do, you're going to ask me to take it all away. I know how you hate the attention. But I won't let them come in here and bother you, Bella. I promise. I won't let you be an exhibit. The only people allowed in here are Charlie and the doctor. I don't like this doctor though, Bella. He looks at you like… like I do. But maybe that means he can bring you back. If that's what it takes… please. Please just… come back." Jacob started to cry, and I walked away, knowing he wouldn't want me to see that.

I let what he'd said sink in for a while. Was I really that transparent? And had he alluded to loving her too? He obviously did love her, very much, but in what capacity? And did she return his feelings? I put the questions away for a moment so that I could focus on Bella. Both as my patient and as the woman I loved. What would be best for her?

"May I come in?" I asked a still teary Jacob.

"Yeah, man. Sure. Thanks for leaving us alone for a while. I know it hurts you to be away from her."

His observation shocked me, though not nearly as much as the casual way he'd said it, as though it were common knowledge. God, I hoped the chief hadn't noticed.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, obviously reading my panicked expression. "I'm fine-tuned to pick up on everything around Bella. I have to be. We've been best friends for almost a decade. Do you have any idea how many guys you have to punch in a decade?"

For her? Thousands. Easily.

"I was supposed to marry her, you know," he told me while playing with her fingers. "We used to make mud pies together, and my dad would always tell me what a good wife she would make one day. I think he just wanted to end up with his best friend for a brother. That's a big thing on the rez, family and connections. Of course, at the time, all girls had cooties, and I hated the idea." He laughed as if the concept were ludicrous now.

"But then she grew up, and so did I. Our dads set us up in high school. I hadn't seen her in so long… She was beautiful. She is the most beautiful woman in the world. Ever since that day, I've known that she's it for me. I don't want anyone else. I don't even see their faces. But…" he sighed. "You have to bring her back. Do anything in your power, Dr. Cullen. If not for me, then for Charlie, for her, so that she can live again. Anything." He seemed saddened by his little speech, resigned even. The intense emotions had clearly taken a lot out of him. That, and no man liked to beg. It went against all of our instincts.

"She'll be fine, Mr. Black. I-"

"Jacob," he corrected.

"Edward." I offered my hand to let him know that, though I was a doctor, I considered myself no better than him. "The truth is, Jacob, there's nothing medically wrong with her. No coma can be cured or even predicted, but we are usually able to at least pinpoint a cause and try to treat it."

"Not Bella though, huh?" He smiled down at her. "So damn stubborn."

"I don't know what you believe in, Jacob – and this isn't exactly scientific – but what I think Bella needs is a reason to come back. Talk to her, play music, hold her hand…k- kiss her if you have to. Get anyone in here that she'd want to see and make sure she knows that being here with you is better than being wherever she is."

"You think I should kiss her?" he asked. "Like Disney shit?"

Damn, he'd caught that.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "You would do anything, wouldn't you? I've seen the way you look at her; it's not some pervy crush. You love her, but you would watch her walk away with someone else?"

"If being with you would guarantee her happiness, then so be it. I have no claims over her."

"But if you did, you'd still feel that way." It wasn't a question.

"I would." There wasn't a doubt in my mind – I would do anything to make her happy.

oOoOo

The third day, D-day, was finally upon us. Either Bella would wake up, or a fairy would be forced to come to grips with reality. I only hoped she didn't hate me too much for letting her believe I could do this. I was sure she'd understand though… someday.

Charlie came in early that day in the hopes of avoiding Renee, Bella's mother, who would finally be visiting from Florida. Apparently she had chosen just the right time to lose her phone while on the road with her minor league husband and never even thought to check her messages.

"This is all my fault," she blubbered into my shoulder. "If I hadn't decided to join Phil for his away games, Bella would still be in Jacksonville, and none of this would have happened."

I had gone over this in my head so many times in the past three days. I didn't know for sure that Bella had been on her way to see me that night, but it was important that Renee realize exactly what I had.

"No one is to blame for this, Mrs. Dwyer," I comforted, awkwardly patting her hair. "It was an accident. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we can't blame every little thing that brought her there."

Renee shook her head. "I… I don't know what to believe."

"Do you blame Phil or his baseball team for going on the road?"

"N-N-No."

"Do you blame Charlie for living in the city where it happened?"

"No."

"Do you blame Bella for driving? Should she have stayed home every night rather than going out and risk ever getting into an accident?"

"Of course not!" Renee huffed. "There was no way she could have known what would happen. I didn't raise my daughter to be afraid of life!"

"Exactly."

She let out a watery chuckle. "You're good, Dr. Cullen. You two will be so happy together."

"Please, call me Edward. And who will I be happy with?"

"I know you're in love with my daughter, Edward… I'm upset, not blind," she added, taking in my expression. I was sure it looked an awful lot like shock. "You're the one from the email, I knew it the moment I saw you."

"What email?"

She only smirked evilly up at me and pointed toward the door. "You have visitors."

I turned to see Rosalie and Alice – in a sunny yellow number – waving me out to the hall.

"Edward!" Alice screeched. "I wanna be here when the princess wakes up today."

"Alice, I'm not so sure…"

"And you must be the fairy!" Renee greeted. "Why don't you come with me? I'll teach you how to make your own dandelion crown."

"Wow… I really will be a fairy princess. Can I go, Edward? Can I?"

"Sure. Just be good, little one. Rosalie, can I speak with you for a second."

"Before you say anything," Rosalie started once we were settled in an on-call room. "I just wanted to thank you. For coming back to see Bella, and for what you said you back there to Renee. It really made me feel better about my part in this."

"And what is your part in this, Rosalie? I already know that Bella isn't a friend from yoga class."

"I never said she was. You asked, and I didn't answer."

So as not to make the same mistake, I waited for her to answer the question at hand.

"I don't even know Bella," she admitted. "She and Emmett are opening a book store together, and he said that you guys would be perfect for each other, so I invited her out for coffee thinking I could get you together. Then maybe, if you hit it off, you'd move a little closer to home."

"Why would you want me to move closer, Rose? You don't even like me."

"I like you," she started, then changed tactics. "Okay fine, I don't like you, but I'd like for you to be around more. By the time Emmett and I got serious, you were already living in Chicago. We only saw you twice a year, and I never knew how much everyone missed you until that summer you stayed."

"The summer we found Alice," I clarified. I had stayed with her until she felt safe and comfortable as the the newest member of our family.

"It was never the same after you left. All anyone could talk about was Edward. 'I miss Edward. Edward would love this.' Your parents, Emmett, Alice – they got a taste of what it was like to always have you around, and the only time it's normal is when you have the time to visit. And I don't want my son growing up in a depressed family."

"Rose, you really need to… Wait. What?"

"If you tell anyone, I'll rip your balls off. I've been trying to get you back here for years, but this really solidified it for me. The family needs you. Besides, I think Bella would make a great babysitter."

"Rose, there is no me and Bella. There's this guy, Jacob Black, I think they're engaged or almost engaged or something. I don't want to break that up."

"Stupid dog," she mumbled, but I ignored her.

"But if it means as much to everyone as you say, I will seriously consider relocating anyway. I don't want Alice or my nephew to grow up in a house of mopers either."

"Really?" She surveyed me with a raised brow.

"If it was just about making _your _life easier, there's no way in Hell. But this is about family."

"Thank you, Edward. And I'm sorry for trying to manipulate you, and for being part of the reason Bella got into that accident. Maybe if I hadn't been such a bitch to her, she would have been watching the road more carefully and…"

"Her truck hydroplaned. Even if you were in full Bitch Mode and she was as furious as she deserved to be, there wasn't much she could do it about it. Or were you not listening to the speech I gave to Mrs. Dwyer earlier?"

By the time we got back to the room, Renee had gone and left Alice with Jacob. I was sure she thought Jacob was okay, and he probably was, but I didn't appreciate the assumption. What if he'd been a psycho kidnapping baby-killer? That woman would never be left alone with _my_ babies. Flake.

Alice was fitting a dandelion crown onto Bella's head. The pillow was causing an awkward angle, and Alice apparently found this frustrating. Jacob wore flowers as well, which I found to be quite humorous.

"Ah, look at all the beautiful princesses," I teased, looking to him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, not really amused, but taking the comment in stride. We both knew he couldn't have escaped this.

"I'm gettin' Bella ready for her wake up time," Alice informed me. "I wan'ed to get her a dress, but Mommy said they wouldn' lemme change her."

"What kind of dress?" I asked, indulging her.

"A pretty pink princess one."

"Really? I think she might look better in blue."

"No, pink," she argued.

"Blue."

"Pink," she and Jacob said together, probably just to annoy me.

"Well, we'll see what she thinks. Rose, why don't you take Alice down to the cafeteria for some pudding."

"But what if I miss it?" Alice huffed, stomping her tiny feet.

"Well, I said it takes three days to lift the curse, and you still have two hours. I sure hope you don't fall asleep." I hoped Rosalie would take the hint and distract Alice until she dropped, buying Bella another day. I really didn't want to shatter any illusions tonight.

"She's a good kid," Jacob said as my sisters walked away. "Is she yours?" The olive branch was out, and I decided to take it.

"No, God no. She's my sister. Adopted," I clarified. "The mother wanted me to take her, but I'm a doctor and a Chicago bachelor. She deserves better. She deserves a family."

"What about Bella?" he asked. "Did you plan to move her into some mansion in Chicago, then never have time for her? 'Cause I'll tell you right now, she won't go for that." He smiled a little, glad to have finally found the chink in this knight's armor.

"That's a moot point, isn't it." It came out a bit harsher than I had wanted, but this guy was really starting to get on my nerves. "She has you, and I won't stand in the way of that. Just, be good to her. If I hear that you hurt her in any way, I swear to fucking God, I _will_ end you. And Seattle's not that far, you know. I could be on your doorstep before you had time to panic."

"You're moving to Seattle," he frowned.

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Somewhere around there." I left it at that. I definitely didn't owe him any further explanations.

"Shit!" He swore loudly, then murmured, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Doing what? Leaving? You're more than welcome."

"No, I can't believe what I'm about to say. But if you're gonna be around, you'll figure it out eventually." He paused, sighed, then paced around the room.

"Spit it out!"

"Okay, okay. Anger management, much? It's just that… Bella and I aren't actually a couple."

"What? But you said th–"

"I said that we were supposed to get married. If things were normal, we would have ended up together. I had a plan, ya know? It took me years to work up the courage to ask her out, and she's been letting me down easy ever since. I was wearing her down, though. I could tell. I think, if you had just waited another six months or a year to show up, we would've been engaged."

"So why are you telling me this now?"

"Because she loves you, too," he told me through an obvious lump in his throat. "I was in the car that day. The amazon called for coffee, and Bella didn't want to go alone. Your sister doesn't like me very much by the way."

"Just ignore Rosalie," I advised. "I do."

"Anyway, Bella spent the whole ride talking about some guy she met at the grocery store. I didn't know it was you until I met Alice. I mean, how many guys hang out with little girls in tutus? She said she thinks you might be _the one _and wanted me to tell her how to be cool so she wouldn't scare you off. But I really don't think that's going to be a problem.

"Listen, I don't know if I can be as big about this as you are. I'll probly be jealous as fuck and try to sabotage you at every turn, but I love her, and I really want her to be happy. Just know that what you said earlier – about ending my life and whatever – it goes double for you. No offense, dude, but I think I could take you alone, and I have, like, five friends on the rez who are just as big as I am."

"You've never met Emmett," I laughed. I couldn't help it. "My brother is a bear, and I'm tougher than I look. But again, that's not the point. I would never hurt Bella. Not that it matters. We don't even know for sure how she feels, and we won't until she wakes up."

"Then wake her up," Jacob commanded, as if it were that simple. After a moment without an answer from me, he elaborated. "Give her a reason, Edward. I told you how she feels, now make sure she knows what she's waking up for. Give her a reason to live." He walked out then, leaving me alone with my thoughts and with Bella.

"What do you think, Bella?" I asked, knowing it was pointless. Even if she could hear me, she sure as hell couldn't answer. "What can I do to convince you to come back? Should I tell you I love you? Because I do, but I think you already knew that. Should I tell you that Alice is already infatuated with the idea of you being her sister? She thinks you're a princess, you know. No matter what you say.

"You look the part now too. Flowers in your hair." I reached out to touch them and move the hair out of her face. I couldn't even remember moving to the bed – let alone sitting down – but now that I was, I couldn't resist touching her. "Should I tell you how your mother thinks we're going to be happy together, and mine is already planning our wedding. At least, that's what Rosalie says, and I wouldn't put it past her.

"You're Emmett approved, by the way. I didn't know he was opening a book store. I'll bet you love to read. Why don't you wake up so you can tell me your favorites." I waited. Nothing. "You're making this hard on me, ya know. I'm sitting here, pouring my heart out and trying to make conversation with a woman I've never spent a day with. I don't even know how you feel. Do you love me, Bella? Did you tell Jacob that I was the one? Did you write about me in an email? Will you give me a reason to live?" I realized that I was unconsciously moving toward her face, but diverted at the last moment and whispered into her ear,"If I promised to love you forever, would you let yourself be mine?"

"Please, Bella," I murmured against her lips. "Wake up." Then I kissed her. And it was the most heartbreaking kiss of my life. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, because I knew she couldn't feel me. I knew I wasn't enough. I knew because her lips remained immobile, and her eyes remained closed.

What kind of a knight was I? What would I tell Alice? What would I do without her? I moved away from Bella's face slowly. The longer I lingered, the more time she had to prove me wrong. But she was still.

I wiped my tears from her cheeks as gently as I could with my sleeve. She looked so peaceful, lying there with her hair splayed on the pillow and in her flowered crown. I wiped a another bit of moisture I had apparently missed on the first pass. I could almost see the pink of her cheeks from that day at the grocery store. I'd missed that, almost as much as her eyes. Another tear. Where were they coming from?

Another came, and another as I watched. Bella was crying.

"Oh my God! Can you hear me, Bella? Bella, squeeze my hand. Try, darling. Please try." I held her hand to my heart, hardly daring to believe that she had regained some consciousness and the tears weren't just a neurological glitch. "Please, Bella. Please." I whisper-prayed. "Please."

A full minute went by, and I thought I would go mad, but then… just the faintest pressure. I was crying again, all over the both of us as I kissed her over and over. Her forehead, her eyelids, those plump luscious lips – no portion of her face went untouched. It hardly mattered to me that her affection had been passed as second-hand information, or that the whole thing could get me fired. She was awake, and that was all that mattered.

"Thank you, Bella," I whispered. "I now have a reason to live."

"I missed it?" Alice screeched behind me. She and Rosalie had apparently arrived just in time to have seen at least part of my celebration. Alice was fuming, ranting about always missing the good part. Rosalie said nothing, just looked at me questioningly.

"Yes," I laughed, unable to stop myself. "She just squeezed my hand, but… She's in there somewhere. Hopefully finding her way back as we speak."

"You promised, Edward," Alice pouted. "You promised I wouldn't miss it."

I laughed and cried and huffed indignation all at the same time. My emotions were completely overloaded. "I promised no such thing, Alice," I scolded, which ended up sounding pretty manic. "There was no way of knowing precisely when she would wake. I only gave you a time frame. I never make promises I can't keep. You know that."

"I know." She pouted some more. "I'm sorry, Edward. You di'nt say that. I was jus' mad."

"It's okay, little one," I soothed, feeling a little calmer myself. "Come sit with me and we'll see if the princess wakes up."

Bella didn't make any further progress that night. Alice was disappointed, but I reminded her that comas rarely work the way they're depicted in television and movies – not even magic ones. We would be lucky if Bella even knew her own name the first time she was fully awake.

It was two days before she opened her eyes, and three before she said anything. It was my name, and I rewarded her with a well-earned kiss on the hand. She smiled, then went back to sleep. On the fourth day, we had a lot of visitors. They had been called and told that Bella had made progress right away, but also that it might be best to stay away so that she wasn't overwhelmed – and so that they weren't disappointed.

But that day, I gave everyone the green light. She knew who she was, recognized a photo of her parents, and she appeared to be solidly awake for several minutes at a time. It wasn't much, but it would give her loved ones peace of mind to talk with her, however briefly.

"Bella, darling," I called softly as I shook her shoulders. "Someone else is here to see you." It was Jacob Black. I had almost told him that she needed rest and to come back later, but I definitely owed him for his honesty and advice.

"Edward?" My name was always the first word from her lips. It never ceased to send a thrill down my spine.

"Someone's here, love. It's Jacob." I tried not to feel threatened by the way her face lit up when I said his name. If anything, I knew that they'd been friends for a very long time. I decided to give them some privacy and headed downstairs for a snack, maybe try the pudding. But halfway down, I got another idea and made my way to my father's office.

When I got back ten minutes later, Jacob was still there, and Bella was still awake. Though she was clearly fading fast.

"I just want you to be sure, Bella. You have a choice, you know. Don't feel like you have to be with him just because he saved you from a coma. You would've woken up eventually."

"'S not a choice, Jake," she slurred, eyes drooping. "He didn' even… say anythin' yet. But 'f 'e does, 'e's mine."

_Mine, _I thought. _I like that word._

Jacob turned to leave, only to find me standing there. He didn't seem pleased or surprised by that fact.

"You are one lucky asshole," he informed me.

"I know."

"Why haven't you talked to her about it yet?"

"Well for one, she's barely keeping her eyes open at the moment. I thought it might be better to wait until I'm sure she's going to remember before I spout off my intentions."

"And…" he prompted.

"And, it is actually against ethical conduct standards for a doctor to be in a relationship with his patient. Technically speaking, I'm supposed to wait a year after our professional relationship ends before pursuing her in order to keep my medical license. And even then, she could sue me for malpractice."

"Never!" An astonished Bella squeaked from the bed. I hadn't realized she was still coherent enough to listen in. Stupid.

"It's all right, love." I tried to calm her by running my fingers through her hair, but she was clearly still in a panic.

"Do we really have to wait a year, Edward? A year from whenever I'm better? But that could be months!" She started crying in earnest now, and it was all I could do not to cry with her. I hated that much to see her upset.

"You should never have started this, Cullen!" Jacob raged. "We could have been married by then."

"Oh, God," Bella cried. "Can you even wait that long? I don't know what I'm going to do without you. Don't leave me!" She put her arms over my shoulders in the grandest move she'd made all week.

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

Between the sobbing and the raging and my own unvoiced reactions, no one heard my father enter the room.

"What the hell, Edward?" he questioned, effectively silencing both tirades.

"Don't look at me," I defended. "Jacob wanted to know why I hadn't asked Bella out yet, and then this happened." I gestured to the other people in the room. "They never let me finish." I chuckled a little, although the situation was definitely not funny.

"Are you fucking laughing about this, you piece of shit?" Jacob moved toward me and my father stopped him.

"One more of those, and you're out of here, Mr. Black. That is not only my son, but the best neurologist in town."

"I'm the only neurologist in town," I added. He ignored me.

"Is that any way to treat the man who spent the past two weeks as a consult to Chief Swan?"

"I know he did a lot, but– Who?" Jacob stopped his rant in its tracks. It was quite comical actually.

"It says here that Charlie Swan has been in this hospital for weeks alongside his daughter," he informed us, reading from a folder. "And Edward here was one of his doctors. I don't see him of course, but if the paperwork says it, and nobody gets sued… I can't imagine that it's wrong. After all, I am the chief of medicine in this hospital, and Charlie Swan is the chief of police. Why would we lie?"

I stood and took the folder from him, looking over its contents. "How did you get this so fast? It hasn't even been half an hour since I left your office. I can't believe he even agreed to it."

"Great minds think alike, Edward. The chief had me draw up these forms after Renee's first visit. Something about an email."

Bella blushed, and I vowed to learn the contents of that damn email.

"Anyway, your name has been completely eradicated from her file. So there would be no breeches of ethical conduct if umm… you two happened to meet while you were treating her father."

"You planned this?" Bella asked, pulling me toward her with those eyes.

"I did. But apparently your parents got there first."

She punched me. And, like the gentleman I was, I flinched like it had hurt.

"That was for making me worry," she said. "And this is for being worth it." She kissed me then, and it was amazing. Like every fantasy I'd ever had poured into a single moment.

I subtly adjusted my scrubs, praying that no one had noticed.

"What if they hadn't thought of it first?" she asked hesitantly. "What if Charlie refused to play along?'

"Would you still love me if I wasn't a doctor?"

"Forever."

"That would have been good enough for me."

And they all lived happily ever after. At least, that was the plan.

* * *

**AN: If you want to know a little Bonus of the Mary/Alice story, or even the coffee date between Bella/Rosalie/Jacob, I could probably be persuaded. Not so sure about continuing though. I've got a lot on my plate right now, and I'm not sure anyone would even read it! lol**

**Shotgunning the labs = Running every test you can think of to try and find the cause of a mysterious problem.**

**Frequent Flyer = Someone who's in the hospital so much that they're recognized. Usually attention seekers, but this is Bella we're talking about. **

**Bus = Ambulance**


	2. Bella's Emails

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/added this story! It warms my heart. Truly! I know FF was being a little... difficult for a while there, but I replied to all of you, so if you didn't get it: I'm sorry!  
**

**Here is a happy little extra for y'all - Bella's emails to Renee. I have another extra almost done, but I need to decided whether or not I'm doing the coffee date first. Alice's story is about half done and so far it's about 3,000 words of dark themes. And not sexy dark. Alice's life before she became a Cullen were all sortsa sadness. So I'd like to get through the fluffy/funny stuff before I post up a tragedy and turn everyone off. lol**

* * *

Sent: 05/07/2011 1:13 pm  
To: Renee Dwyer  
From: Bella Swan

Subject: I made it!

Mom,

I made it back to Forks just fine, and I don't hate you for having to go to Nashville. Phil needed you, and I needed to get back to work here anyway. We're supposed to open our doors in two weeks, and Emmett doesn't even know how to stock the shelves. I swear I caught him trying to put Moby Dick into the Adult section.

Between you and me, I don't think Emmett has ever picked up a book in his life. Maybe Playboy, if that counts. Then again, Rosalie would probably castrate him if he did. She's not exactly the forgiving type. That's probably why he's opening a book store in the first place, aside from the fact that it'd be the only one for miles not specializing in metaphysical healing. (Which reminds me, if you ever visit, you'll love Port Angeles.) I also think that it's the only kind of store Rosalie would allow him to open. It IS the unsexiest business on the planet. Plus, I'm the only woman in the area who'd want to work there, and I'm not really a threat, am I? Not that any woman would really pose a threat to Rosalie (she could pose for Playboy herself, if she wanted).

The flight was fine. No hijackers, no freak storms, no holes in the roof of the plane. It was pretty boring, actually. There was only one other man on the plane from Seattle, and he seemed really interested in his book. (And don't get excited, it was just a medical journal. Nothing I could start a conversation about.) Anyway, he had that whole I'm-movie-star-gorgeous-and-I-know-it thing going on. He sat directly across the aisle from me, even though there were ten other seats, and then he spent the whole time watching me watch him over top of his book. (I couldn't help myself. The bastard was so damn pretty.) Then, when we landed, I guess I gasped or squeaked or something (you know how I get), he just openly gave me this look. You know, like a "OMG, she made a noise look" and I felt silly. And I guess he thought I was gasping about HIM or something because then he smiled at me. It was all smug and toothy and knowingly handsome. Anyway, he was a jerk. Total jerk. I wouldn't have wanted him to talk to me anyway, with his stupid green eyes and grab-able red hair. I bet he just likes to tease women speechless and walk away laughing!

And to top it off, he's gay! A big gay, jerky tease, that's what he is. There was a guy waiting to pick him up off of the plane. All blond and blue eyes, they obviously aren't related. Not that it has anything to do with me, but he shouldn't be flashing smiles at women if he's got a perfectly good chunk of man meat at home. He and his partner have a kid together, a little girl. One of them had to have contributed to her DNA, because she was just as beautiful as they are! I have to admit, they were really cute together though. He spun her around and called her "princess".

She had a little hissy fit about that, which caught my attention. It was so adorable. She said, "I'm not a princess, I'm a fairy. Princesses don't wear tutus." She can't have been older than five, but she was stomping her foot and yelling about "earning her wings". You would have loved her. And he was so patient and sweet, even though it was obviously going right over his head.

It's a shame he's such a jerk. Dad said he's a world famous neurologist. He has to be conceited then, right? There's no "world famous" anything that doesn't think he's the hottest thing outside of Phoenix.

Ugh. Whatever. I don't even want to talk about him. Dad said he usually visits his family 2-3 times a year, and only for about a week. I haven't ever seen him before, so I'll probably never see him again.

Charlie says hi. Give my love to Phil.

Love you,  
Bella

* * *

Sent: 05/10/2011 4:47pm  
To: Renee Dwyer  
From: Bella Swan

Subject: (no subject)

Mom,

I'm in a rush, but I just had to tell you. The guy from the plane turned out to be Edward Cullen, Emmett's younger brother. The one he's been talking about for ages and trying to hook me up with. The guy that picked him up at the plane is apparently their FATHER, and the little girl is their adopted sister Alice.

I ran into Edward at the grocery store earlier, and I feel so stupid for thinking he was a conceited jerk. He's sweet and funny, and the whole thing was like a scene from a movie! I was looking for some berries to make a pie for Dad, and I guess I was humming or singing to myself, because next thing I know, some guy pops out from behind the apples and starts singing with me.

And Alice is the most amazing, adorable little girl. Apparently, she only owns sparkling princess dresses. She said Edward was knight, and asked if I was princess. Can you believe it? The whole world is a fairy tale to her, a woman after my own heart!

Oh, and he was so sweet and shy, not at all full of himself the way I thought he'd be. He got all flustered when Alice called him a knight, and I think he even blushed! He asked me my name, and I tried to play the whole hard-to-get angle, but I ended up making a date with him for tonight anyway. I mean, I don't even know how much longer he's going to be in town. Is it sick that I don't want him to leave? It all just feels so very... fairy tale! Like he might ask me to elope with him and ride off into the sunset. Okay, so maybe I'm getting a little carried away here, but he does look like Prince Charming.

Holy crow, I have to go! Rosalie wants to have another "coffee" with me. The last one turned out to be her trying to warn me away from her man (which is gross because Emmett is like a brother to me) and I'm a little worried what this is going to be about. If she tells me to stay away from Edward, I might cry. I don't think I could if I tried. Is that wrong? Because it feels right!

Anyway, don't worry, I'm bringing Jacob along. He's big enough to be intimidating. (I hope) And if she makes me late for my date with Edward, I might need him to hold me back. Haha.

Wish me luck!

Love you,  
Bella

* * *

**What'd you think? I was debating on just leaving these to the imagination, but there ya go.**

**Now... Coffee date or no coffee date?  
**


	3. Alice Part One

**All right, well... Here is Part One of little Alice's tragic tale. This is the sad part. The part where nothing good happens. If you would like to skip this and wait for Part Two: Alice's Discovery, you may.** **I wanted desperately to get all of the fluffy nice stuff out of the way first, but it's been months and it never came. So I thought that this would be better than nothing. Look for Part Two, which will be shorter, but much more positive than this. At least I hope so. lol**

**WARNING: THIS OUTTAKE CONTAINS MATURE THEMES SUCH AS HARSH LANGUAGE, ABUSE, NEGLECT, AND NON-CONSENSUAL SEX. (Though I could never do that to a baby, even in writing. She is safe on that count. Promise.) **

**If any of these things are offensive to you, please skip this update and do not tell me how angry you are that I put this out into the world. I didn't invent the shit these people do, I just wrote about it.**

**Oh, and I still don't own anything you might recognize.**

* * *

It was past midnight on a weeknight. That only meant one thing: Frank was out drinking again. Time flew quickly as Mary Ann prepared for his arrival. Sharp objects needed to be hidden. Any light, solid objects had to be secured. Frantically, she shoved an umbrella, a small lamp, and everything around the fireplace into the lockable hall coat closet. He would have his belt on, and that would be enough.

"Shit!" She cursed, checking the time.

It was almost two thirty; he would be home any minute.

"Mary," she whispered sweetly. "Mary, it's time to get up."

"Mommy?" Mary whispered sleepily, rubbing her eyes vigorously with tiny fists. She had seen Mickey do it on a cartoon once and thought that it was what one was supposed to do when waking. Mary was very smart for a just-turned-three-year-old and liked to learn through imitation. Thus far, she had not been impressed with eye rubbing. It hurt.

"Mary, Daddy wants to play a game. He wants to play Hide and Seek. Do you remember how to play that game? You were so good at it the last time." Mary Ann longed for the days when she could just put the baby in the closet and lock the door. Things were getting complicated, and she didn't know how long she'd be able to keep this up. As if the Devil had heard her prayers, Mary chose that night to disobey.

"No, Mommy," Mary pouted. Mary's daddy was always wanting to play games. She had spent so much time in dark spaces, playing Hide and Seek, she couldn't even remember who she was supposed to be hiding from. Mary wanted to see her daddy, and Mary wanted to sleep. She did not know which she wanted more, but she knew one thing: "Don' wanna pay wif Daddy no more!"

"Yes you do, sweetie," Mary Ann cooed. "Just for a little while. Super secret spy, okay? Don't let Daddy find you." She picked her daughter up gently, but Mary _really _did not want to play.

"No, Mommy! No!" She cried, kicking and screaming. "NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"

It was 2:35 and Mary Ann was out of time. She threw Mary into the crawl space and slammed the door shut. "You will do what you are told, Mary Alice Brandon!" she yelled through choking sobs. "You… You've been a very bad girl, and you must be punished!"

"No!" Mary yelled, pummeling the door with her tiny fists. The door barely rattled, but it was enough.

"YOU FUCKING STOP THAT RIGHT NOW!"

"Mommy…" Mary whispered. Her mother had said the word. The very worst word in the whole wide world. Bad things happened when people said that word. Mommy said so.

"You have been so bad, Mary!" She continued to lie. It made her want to vomit, but what choice did she have? "You made me say the word, Mary. Now they're coming to get you!"

"It… It was a…a," Mary tried valiantly to summon the word, but it was an impossibly large one for such a small child. Luckily for her, Mary's mother knew it too.

"It may have been an accident, Mary, but you made me do it! Mommy can protect you, but only if you're hiding, understand? When Daddy comes home, he will want to play, but he doesn't know the bad man is coming. You have to stay quiet, Mary. Absolutely silent. Do not answer your Daddy when he calls for you! Do not talk to the bad man! Do not even breathe louder than a mouse! Do you understand me?" Shit, that was Frank's car in the driveway. It was imperative that her daughter stay unfound. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"Yes, Mommy," Mary sniffled.

"Take the key, Mary," Mary Ann whispered as the front door shook. He wasn't even bothering with the handle tonight.

Mary looked down to see that a key had been slipped under the door and was resting at her feet.

"When I ask you to give it back, you slide it under like I did, okay? Only me. Starting now, you don't say anything. Not until this door is open, or else the bad man will get you. Okay, Mary?"

As instructed, Mary did not answer, and Mary Ann sent up a prayer: _Thank you, God for a smart and obedient child._

The thought had only just completed, when a large crash resounded through the house. Frank couldn't get through the door, so he had broken a window instead. It made perfect sense to him.

"Mary Ann! Open the GOD! DAMN! DOOR!"

Mary Ann raced to obey. In the back of her mind, she knew that she should be moving in the opposite direction, but if only he would get sober again, this would never be a problem. He had never hit her before they were married. Not once. It was only after their nuptials, after she'd had Mary. He had gone off with that friend of his one night – Royce something or other – to "celebrate". Since then, he'd gone out every morning as Frank Brandon, the man she loved, and come back this… monster… drunk and ever eager to cause pain.

From her spot on the floor, Mary heard a lot of things. She heard crashes and bangs and lots and lots of screaming. Mary's mommy was crying so loud, it hurt Mary's head to listen to it. She cried and cried for her mommy, wishing she hadn't said the word, wishing she hadn't made her. It was all Mary's fault that this was happening; she knew it. Mommy was protecting her from that bad man, Frank, and he was hurting her. He was making her cry, and it was all Mary's fault.

But she did as Mommy had told her to do. She stayed hidden. She stayed quiet. She pretended to be a super secret spy, like on TV. She pretended to be a bug on a rug, a flower, a statue, any number of things she knew that stayed still and quiet.

Mary heard a scream so loud, she had to move to cover ears. She hoped the bad man wouldn't notice. When Mommy was finished screaming, it was completely silent. Mommy was gone, Mary thought. Mommy was hurt by the bad man, and she was never coming back, and it was all Mary's fault.

Mary began to cry, but was careful not to breathe too much. The bad man was still out there. Where was her daddy? Mary thought. Why wasn't he here to save them? Daddies fixed things, Mary knew because she'd seen it in the movies. Daddies loved their Mommies and their daughters, and protected them fiercely. When Daddy came home, he would chase away the bad man, save Mommy, and find Mary in her hidey-hole, and then they would all live happily ever after. Everybody had to fight a bad man or a wicked witch at some time or another, but they always lived happily ever after. Mommy said so.

"Get up!" The bad man screamed. "I said get the fuck up, bitch! Ah… who needs ya? I got another lil toy 'round 'ere someplace."

Mary heard the bad man walk past her and into the bedroom, crashing and banging into things as he went. Doors and drawers were slammed as she listened, waiting to see what the bad man wanted – although she knew. There was only one reason for him to still be there, the reason he had come in the first place.

"Mary," he called. "Where are you, you little shit?"

Mary did not answer. Even if she'd wanted to, she probably couldn't. There were no words in the grown-up world for the amount of fear that she was feeling, and so the toddler truly had no hope of expressing herself. But then, the voice changed.

"Mary, it's your daddy. Please come out and play?"

The relief of hearing her father's voice almost proved too much. Mary almost answered. But then she remembered the bad man. He was still out there. Why hadn't her daddy seen him?

"You have until I count to three to come out, or I will beat the ever-loving shit out of you! Do you hear me, Mary?" It was the bad man. He had almost tricked her. He had almost made her believe that he was her daddy come to play. She was even more terrified than ever knowing that he had the power to do that.

"She's… she's not here." That had been her mommy, Mary was sure of it.

"What d'ya mean, she's not fucking here?" Frank rounded on Mary Ann. He had thought he'd knocked her unconscious. He would have to do better next time. "Where would she go? She's a baby for chrissakes, and you ain't got no fuckin' family."

"I gave her up," said Mary Ann. "At the fire station."

The look on Frank's face said that he wasn't buying it, so she embellished. She only prayed that God – and Mary – would someday forgive her.

"She was gettin' in the way, baby. Everything was fine until that brat came along. I miss you, baby. I miss being your woman. I miss thinking of you and only you." Mary Ann sobbed angrily, trying to sell it as hatred of her own daughter, which only fueled her hatred of herself.

"It was good, wasn't it?" Frank's alcohol-tainted mind had moved on from anger and was now piecing together memories of their pre-child life. He'd never have to worry if he was making enough then. He had never had to work late. He'd never come home to a quiet house and no dinner before the little shit was born.

Reading his expression, Mary Ann pushed him farther down that track – the track that led away from hurting Mary. "Remember how I used to be waiting for you right here?" She tried to sit up, but her leg was broken. She knew Frank wouldn't care though, and for now, neither would she. "I used to stand here in nothing but my lingerie so that I could greet you properly when you got home from work, remember? And when we were done, dinner was ready, and I would serve you… naked."

Frank's eyes had become hooded as he licked his lips. Yeah, he remembered.

"We would go all night without a care in the world. No one was there to hear us, or stop us. There were no distractions. Mary was a distraction. I got rid of her. Now we can go back to how it was, to how it's supposed to be."

He moved so that he was standing over her, rubbing his dick through his jeans. The sight disgusted Mary Ann. She knew then that she would leave him. She would suck him off or let him fuck her, whatever he wanted, then, as soon as he was asleep, she would grab Mary and make a run for it.

"Tell me you're sorry," he commanded. "Beg for my forgiveness."

"I'm so sorry, baby," Mary Anne started. "I never meant to neglect you. I-"

"Show me, baby," he breathed, palming his erection. "Make me believe it. Let me know that I'm the only one you care about."

oOoOo

Mary listened while her mommy said the most horrible things; it seemed to go on for hours. Her mommy didn't love her. Her mommy never wanted her. Her mommy wished she was never born. And when she was done, the bad man would tell her to say it all again. When Mommy wasn't talking, she was crying, and whenever she would cry, the bad man would hit her.

Mary heard so much slapping and screaming, but sometimes, she thought, her mommy would fight back. The man would make such horrible sounds: gurgles and moans like he was getting sick and couldn't breathe. Finally, the bad man screamed. Mary hoped he was dying. She hoped he died and went away and never came back. She hoped he fell in a hole like the Evil Queen or that her daddy would come and slay him like a dragon.

But when he was done screaming, the bad man started talking. "Fuck, that was good, baby," he said. He always used the bad words. "But ya know what would make it better?"

"What, baby, what?" Mommy said. "Anything to make it better."

There was a loud crash, but no scream. Mary was scared.

"This'll be so much better without all your fucking whimpering," the bad man said, and then he started getting sick again. Mommy didn't talk this time. Mommy had left her alone.

Mary eventually fell asleep, dreaming horrible dreams about her daddy coming to find her, but she was stuck on the top of a tower. Then the bad man came and threw up on her, and her mommy said she was too dirty now and she didn't want her anymore. Then her mommy died.

When she woke up again, the house was quiet. She wanted to call out for her mommy, but she didn't think that she was there. And where was the bad man? No, she should stay quiet and still until Mommy came back for her.

oOoOo

Mary's tummy started to rumble. She hoped he wouldn't hear it. Mommy was gone a long time. She wanted her daddy to save her. Where was he?

oOoOo

There were lots of loud noises. Sirens and people yelling.

"I've got a pulse!" said a man.

"She's fading fast!" said another.

"They have a baby!" screamed a woman. Mary thought it sounded like Mrs. Nathan from next door. She always gave good candy. Mary wanted to call out to her, to tell her she wanted to be saved, but she remembered what her Mommy said. Super secret spy.

"Mary!" Mrs. Nathan called. "Mary!"

"Ma'am, you have to wait outside. There's no sign of a baby."

"She's two," Mrs. Nathan insisted. "Mary! You have to come out. These men are here to help, Mary."

"You can't be here, ma'am. Please step outside. Marcus! Neighbor says there's a two-year-old child. Clear the building before you leave."

The sirens went away, but one man remained. He called out for Mary. He said he was her friend. He said he wanted to play with her. Mary had heard all this before. When he rattled her door, Mary nearly screamed. No one but Mommy knew the super secret hideout.

"What's this little door here?" he called out.

"The crawl space," Mrs. Nathan answered. "Three by three cube with a dirt floor. Mary could never get in there; they always keep it locked."

"Looks like she's not here. Lucky thing, too. Poor kid." There was a crackle, and the man spoke in a louder, scarier voice. "Twenty-One to dispatch. House is clear. Toddler MIA. Checking with the neighbors."

There was another crackle and another voice answered. "Copy, Twenty-One. Stand-by for update."

"Copy."

"You're sure?" Mrs. Nathan asked.

"Ma'am, there's no one here. You did a good thing here today. I'll make sure you're notified when she's found."

After that there was no noise. No Mommy. No bad man. No nothing.

Mary listened. Mary slept. Mary wished she could be eating.

One time, Mary fell asleep and didn't wake back up.

* * *

**You already know she gets a happy ending, right? So please, please don't kill me. The next part will be Mary/Alice's rescue and introduction to the Cullens. So... not exactly bright and shiny, but at least good things will happen. If you have a sad that won't go away, re-read the beginning of the one-shot. See that adorable little fae-ling? Yeah, it's gonna be okay.**

**Obviously, no beta was used in the making of this outtake. But let me know what you think, eh? **

**Talk at ya soon! **

**~Lex**


	4. Alice Part Two

**There will be one more chapter after this, so hang tight.**

* * *

It was by sheer coincidence that Edward Cullen witnessed Mary Ann Brandon's arrival at Chicago Memorial. One of the ER nurses, Jessica, had invited him to breakfast at the end of a long overnight shift, and Edward had been waiting at the nurses station, wondering what was keeping her (as she had always made it a point to be overly available to him in the past), and passing the time with Kate, Jessica's friend and co-worker.

"Good morning, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, Kate, just Edward. You've seen me naked for God's sake."

"Not a fact I would advertise; and anyway, it was an accident," Kate said defensively, not looking up from her coffee cup.

"You accidentally walked into the mens room thirty seconds after me?"

"I- Okay, fine. You were new and hot and we were all curious, but now we know you and it's just gross, so can we not talk about it anymore?"

Edward pouted. "Jessica doesn't think I'm gross."

"No, she doesn't. But we both know you don't care. In fact, I'd bet the only reason you want me to think you're cute is because I have Garrett now. I'm not a threat."

"Not a threat," Edward scoffed. "Like the time you zapped me with the paddles?"

"Okay, now that _was _an accident."

"You seem to have a lot of accidents around me. Am I really that distracting?" Edward turned his best gooey eyes to his friend, who seemed flustered, but recovered quickly.

Kate was just about to respond, with something snappy and sarcastic no doubt, when Jessica rushed past them without sparing a glance. She had gotten a call, which explained her absence, but Edward still thought she could have paged him. He had not only wasted ten minutes of sleep just standing there, but now he would have to wait for this patient to clear the doors before he could leave, lest he should get in the way.

Now, Edward was no stranger to the emergency room, and he had seen his fair share of abuse victims, but that never made it any easier. The woman they brought in was badly beaten: broken leg, broken ribs, and had obviously had her head smashed in. She was barely breathing, let alone conscious.

Edward watched and listened, unable to stop himself, as they rushed her past. Blunt force trauma, punctured lung, internal bleeding… they had had to re-start her heart twice on the ride over. By all rights, the woman should have been dead already. She would be lucky to survive the night, and pulling through without permanent disability would be downright miraculous.

"Dr. Cullen!" yelled Kate, tearing his attention from the corner her cart had disappeared around. "You should go get some sleep. Jessica's not going anywhere. You can shut her down tomorrow morning."

Edward tried to laugh with her, but it came out as more of a cough. He nodded and walked out the door; if the patient managed to hang on, he would likely be called upon to assess her neurological health, and he wanted to be well-rested.

oOoOo

"Permanent damage, here, here, and here," said Dr. Patel, pointing to various spots on the negative image of a brain. "It's likely she'll never regain coherent speech. Probably be eating through a tube for the rest of her life, which won't be long, judging from her test results. Best make her comfortable, kid."

People like Dr. Patel were one of the many reasons Edward had become a neurologist: he hated them. They were all very smart, very smug people who always knew what they were doing, always knew best, and never yielded to anyone. Because the brain is most arguably the thing that makes a person who they are, neurologists tended to think that they had the most important job on the planet—and each and every one of them thought that he or she was best at it.

It was times such as these, with doctors like Patel, that Edward really shined.

"Actually," he started, clearing his throat for good measure. "I believe that this one here"-he pointed to the first damage sight- "is just left of vital. And this"-he pointed again- "seems only to be a surface lesion and will likely heal entirely with time. I do agree, however, that she'll have to endure speech problems and assisted living for a time, though that's mostly due to the fact that her trachea was nearly crushed, which has nothing to do with us, so we really shouldn't focus on it."

Dr. Patel gaped for a moment, then let out an undignified snort. "Son, I've been doing this for nearly forty years, and I say she'll be lucky if she wakes up a vegetable. I understand that you've made some sort of name for yourself in comas—sketchy field, mostly luck—but you're in my house now."

"Yes, sir," Edward said. "We'll see."

"Yes, we will." Appeased, Dr. Patel went back to his regular patients, leaving the latest and, in his opinion, most hopeless case to the new guy.

Three hours later, Edward was back in Dr. Patel's office, Mrs. Brandon's latest test results in hand. Needless to say, one of them was about to be severely disappointed.

"Whaddya' got, sport?" Dr. Patel asked with laughter in his voice.

Well, Edward thought as they went over the chart together, there had to be worse things than being wrong. Sure, he might feel like a fool in front of his colleagues, but he was certain Dr. Patel would recover. After all, wasn't losing face better than losing a patient? From the look on the elder's face, maybe not.

"Well, this looks… promising," said Dr. Patel, swallowing hard.

Edward nodded. "Yes, sir. I'd like to wake her up tomorrow. The sooner she speaks with the police, the better off she'll be, and we'll need to test her cognition before then."

"Quite right, Dr. Cullen. Quite right."

oOoOo

Through a series of nods, head shakes, and half-hearted hand signals, Mrs. Brandon was able to communicate the basics of what had happened to the police. Her husband had beaten her to bloody pulp for no reason other than that he could. She would have to make an official statement as soon as they were able to remove all of the tubes from her throat, but it was enough to put out a warrant for Frank Brandon's arrest.

Mary Ann remained calm throughout the proceedings, resigned almost. She listened first while all of her doctors went over everything he had done to her and what that meant. Then the police came, and she was forced to re-live the night through their questions. Edward nearly cried for her, his hardened professional facade saving him that embarrassment. She passed out halfway through questioning, unable to hold onto consciousness any longer. Edward felt she had done quite well under the circumstances.

As they left, one of the cops pulled him aside. He couldn't have been a minute over eighteen, and Edward wondered how he had managed to become an officer so quickly.

"Strictly speaking, Dr. Cullen, this conversation won't have taken place."

Edward nodded his agreement, worried what the boy might have to tell him.

"You see, I'm a little worried here. I need help. The other guys…they're strictly by the book—no heart, no conviction—and I'm sick of watching people suffer because we're doing what we're _supposed _to. I know you know what I mean."

And Edward _did _know. He knew what it was like to have to turn someone away because they had a job with no benefits, because he wasn't allowed to make decisions, because it was standard protocol not to act until it was almost too late. They suffered, all of them, needlessly.

The officer watched Edward's face carefully, saying finally. "I knew I'd found a brother in you."

"What can I do?" asked Edward.

"There's a girl," he said, gesturing toward the unconscious woman. "A daughter. Just turned three. Totally helpless, and no one knows where she is. The neighbor says she never leaves the house."

"Doesn't she have family or…" Edward trailed off as the officer shook his head.

"There's no one. The house was swept by some lazy asshole who never even brought in a dog. James and his_ I can find anything _bullshit… Anyway, there's no evidence. We're working under the assumption that she was abducted by the father."

Edward contemplated that for a moment: A three-year-old girl, kidnapped by the man who had almost killed her mother. It was a depressing thought.

"But we need to know," the officer continued forcefully. "The Amber Alert is out, but if she's not with him, if she's out on her own or still in the house…"—he ran his hands through his wild blonde hair— "The minute she's conscious again, you need to ask her. Call, but don't wait for us to get here. Just find out if she knows where the girl is and tell whoever shows that she brought it up on her own."

Edward nodded. "I'll call," he promised. "I'll call you directly, Officer…"

"Whitlock," he said, offering his hand. "Jasper Whitlock."

oOoOo

Fourteen hours went by. Edward was well off his shift, but he hadn't left Mary Anne's side. She might wake up at any moment, and where would he be? Safely at home while a three-year-old suffered? He didn't think so.

And there was no way he would pass along Jasper's request to someone to else. Edward felt as though he had been hand-chosen by Officer Whitlock, and to turn his back on this would be to turn his back on the girl, and to take the one man who would damn the rules to save her and throw him under the bus.

Again, not likely.

He suffered the agony of hospital paste (they called them "mashed potatoes") and a thick, mud-like sludge ("coffee") because it was the only thing the nurse would bring him, and he was afraid to leave. If she woke while he was away, they would probably sedate her. She had too much healing to do, too much pain to deal with. It would be the most humane thing, to help her sleep through it. But this was more important. Edward would endure a lifetime of whatever Nurse Clearwater thought to bring him if he had to.

Around one, the shift changed, and Nurse Weber brought him a cheeseburger. Unlike her predecessor, she didn't stop to ask Edward what he was doing every fifteen minutes, assert she was not his waitress, or try to make him go to the on-call room and "get the hell out of her way." Angela just smiled softly, sympathetically, and worked around him as needed. He understood now why Ben had always harbored affection for her.

Whenever Edward brought it up, Ben had always protested that nurses hated doctors, especially surgeons. Edward didn't bother to inform him that it was the members of his own profession that most nurses hated on principal. Although, considering their attitudes, it may have gone without saying. But surgeons also tended to be cocky and domineering, and the nurses tended to not like being told they were "good little helpers". Of course, Edward knew that Ben had never said, nor would he ever say, such a thing. Nurses were the backbone holding the hospital upright; every good doctor knew that.

But Ben was stubborn, and he wouldn't take "It worked on Scrubs" as an answer, either. He had divided the classes, placing hurdles that didn't exist. Ben was not a cocky asshole, and Angela was quite clearly not a prideful, bitter harpy. Hell, if she would bring a neurologist a cheeseburger without comment she was probably a saint. Edward would definitely have to fix them up some time.

The cheeseburger came with fries, and Edward thought briefly about telling Ben to go to Hell; he would marry Angela himself. But as the delicious smell of deep-fried potato product wafted out of the bag, two things happened: Edward's stomach rumbled, which wasn't altogether surprising, and Angela gasped. At first, he had thought it was her surprise at his extreme hunger, but what could she expect with the orderlies gone and no one but Leah to turn to?

Then he saw what had _really _caught her attention: Mary Anne's eyes were open.

"Nurse!" Edward barked out without properly thinking. "I mean, Angela… Would you please call this number and ask for Officer Whitlock? Inform him that the patient is awake and that I am seeing to her personally. Then, _after _you've spoken with him, please page the attending."

"After, Dr. Cullen?" Angela asked, flipping Jasper's card in her hand. She was not questioning his instructions, only clarifying.

"After," he confirmed.

The moment Angela had cleared the door, Edward rounded on the patient.

"Miss, do you know who you are?"

She nodded.

"Do you know _where _you are?"

She nodded again.

"Mrs. Brandon, where is your daughter?"

Mary Anne's heart rate soared, the monitor off the charts. Edward hastily silenced the alarm and placed a restraining arm across Mary Anne's torso. When she had found herself unable to speak, she had decided to start removing the tubing herself.

"Mrs. Brandon, you have to calm down," Edward told her. He was sure that Angela would ignore the alarm as long as possible, knowing he was in there, but soon she would have to come and his opportunity would be lost. "I'm going to remove the tubing, but you've got to calm down. If the other doctors see you like this they're going to sedate you again, and by the time you wake up, it may be too late."

Mary Anne nodded frantically, keeping her body as stiff and still as possible. There was nothing to be done for her racing pulse or the mixture of snot and tears she was now drowning in. Not now that she remembered her baby. Edward allowed himself to pity her for a moment as he removed the tracheal tubes. It was only temporary, but still ill-advised. She would need to be intubated again right away.

He would make his excuses when he had to. For now, he had a child to save.

"Cl—Closet," she gasped out immediately. "Un— Derstairs— Locked!" she cried. "Locked in!"

"Dr. Cullen, what is the meaning of this?" Eric "Rejected-By-Every-Nurse-To-Cross-His-Path" Yorkie was there to save the day.

"She—" Edward started, but Yorkie would not allow it.

"Why are you here? What have you done to this patient? Why aren't you allowing my nurses to do their jobs?"

Angela, who had rushed in with Eric and immediately set to the task of sedating Mrs. Brandon, looked up, dumbfounded at being referred to as _his _nurse. She made a noise halfway between confusion and disgust before turning to Edward.

"Officer Whitlock is waiting downstairs," she told him, then turned toward Eric. "Are you going to intubate or what?"

At the mention of Jasper, Edward remembered his assignment. It had only been two days; they might still have time. But they had to go now, and he wanted to be there. He fled down the stairs with ungodly speed, cheeseburger cold and forgotten.

* * *

**Hangin' in there, loves?**

**P.S. This was unbeta'd. Feel free to point out any major mistakes. I will most likely fix them.**


	5. Alice Part Three

**FINALLY! *whew* Sorry about this, but I didn't want to post here until it was completely done (three parts for what was just supposed to be an outtake is plenty, doncha' think?). **

**I don't really know if there's anyone out there, but I pray that you enjoy this. And if you do, I'd love it if you let me know.**

**I own nothing except my mistakes. No beta was used in the creation of Princess Alice.**

* * *

Mary was having a dream. A very good dream. She felt very safe and warm, but she knew she was only in The Waiting Place – the place people go when they don't know where they're supposed to be, or just aren't ready to be there yet. There were a lot of sad people in The Waiting Place, but a lot of happy ones too. It seemed to Mary that everyone saw The Waiting Place differently.

There were a lot of babies there, most of them slightly depressed. They were waiting for school, and while they knew it would be fun to learn new things and meet new people, they also knew that it would grow tiresome after a while and they would be counting the minutes to come Home and play. It was also incredibly tedious to be a baby, so Mary had been told.

"You can't do anything for yourself," one of them had said. "You know everything, but can't tell anyone, and then you start to forget. By the time you figure out how to use your body again, your brain has turned to mush and you can't even remember what you're there for."

Mary's mommy had had a similar experience at the grocery store, she'd confided. "She went in for milk, but got so distracted by vegetables that she forgot to bring it home."

The baby had nodded sagely at Mary's metaphor, neither of them finding it odd that they knew what a metaphor was, that the fact they were conversing at all would be scoffed at by most.

"Life is like that," the baby had said. "You go in to learn how to be a better person and get so distracted by all there is to do that sometimes you come out worse! And then you're back Home, and you remember… and you've failed."

"No," Mary had argued. "I think it's part of the learning. You do the wrong things, and then you find out they're wrong and you don't want to do them again. I didn't understand what hot was until I broke the rules and touched the stove. I'll never do it again. I learned."

"You're pretty smart for a three-year-old. You still remember a lot."

"I do," Mary nodded. "But I'm already forgetting. I remember the important things, but I can't explain them. When I'm here, in The Waiting Place, it's clearer, but I still have to relate them to my current life. I can't remember anything before Mary was born, and I don't remember what I've planned to do until she dies, but I remember that I know that Life is worth living."

The nameless baby had been her favorite conversation in The Waiting Place, and one she would remember for years to come – even when the details had blurred beyond recognition – but Mary did speak to others.

One man was crying an endless mourning sorrow for the ones he'd left behind. Mary tried to tell him that the time would go by so much faster if he would just go Home and wait for them, but he was adamant that he should stay where he was. Mary pitied him his ignorance. His family would surely have wished him peace and happiness for a blink than misery for years. She was certain he would be properly chastised when the first of his loved ones passed through.

There was a woman she called Joy who laughed and carried on to anyone who would join her. She was positively thrilled to see that there was such a thing as a Waiting Place. She couldn't wait to go back and tell everyone she knew everything she'd learned here. She held Mary and cuddled her and told her what an amazing gift their lives would be as soon as they woke up again. Mary didn't know exactly why, but she knew the woman was right. If Mary made the right choices, the worst of her Life was over.

There was another man waiting to go Home, but he was afraid he wouldn't be allowed. He had done bad things. His Life had gone horribly wrong. He didn't deserve to go Home and he knew it. He was afraid of where else he might end up. Was there a place besides Life and Home? Was there somewhere he would be forced to pay for his mistakes? He couldn't remember, and Mary couldn't tell him because he wouldn't have believed it. There _was_ a place such as the one that he described; and he was the one keeping himself there.

If he had done something truly unforgivable, the man wouldn't be in The Waiting Place. He would have been thrust back into Life immediately to try and try again. Not because he had to, but because he would have chosen it without thought. He had the option to go Home now, to get some peace and rest, but his regret was holding him back. He didn't know if he deserved to rest until he had gone back and made amends for what he'd done.

Did he belong at Home with his friends and family?

Or should he go back to Life and prove that he had learned his lesson?

He didn't know.

The Waiting Place was where he would be until he made his choice, until he realized that no one could make that decision for him.

All told, thousands waited in The Waiting Place. Men and women, girls and boys, even some dogs and cats. Some were waiting for Life, others waited to go Home, and then there were those who were waiting to remember what it was they were waiting for. Mary prayed for them most of all.

Mary's mommy was there sometimes too, though Mary never had the chance to talk to her. They would see each other from across the space, and though they each knew it would be effortless to come together, neither made that move. One because she was ashamed of the part she'd played in her daughter's Life and was afraid to seek forgiveness, the other because she didn't want to be asked. As far as Mary was concerned, there was nothing to forgive; her mommy had done exactly what she was meant to do. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but she did.

One day Mary's mommy would remember. She would remember that Life wasn't meant to be easy, that she had made many mistakes, but none of them were unforgivable. She would know that she had done the right things when they'd mattered most, and she wouldn't regret one single fumble.

One day Mary's mommy would find her way Home, where she would wait for Mary, and they would congratulate one another on a Life well done.

For now though, Mary waited. She was waiting for Life, she knew that. She was was waiting for someone to save her from the dark. She couldn't remember why it was dark, or who was going to save her. She knew that she knew, but she couldn't remember. It was frustrating.

"Help me remember," she asked no one in particular, though she knew that someone was listening. "Please give me something. Maybe not now, but when I go back, help me to remember why I even bothered.

"It's easy when I'm here," she told that invisible someone. "When I see that there's a Home and a Waiting Place and people getting ready for Life. It's easy for me _now_ to say my Life will be worth living. But what will I do when I get there? When I'm not looking at Mommy and _knowing_ she's done the right thing? I'm going to forget everything when I get back, and I'm afraid I won't be able to make the right choices. I'm afraid I'll get distracted by Mary's terrible beginnings and ruin the middle and end. I know I'm not supposed to, but help me remember, please."

The plea hung in the air around her, stifling and thick. It wasn't a simple request, and she hardly expected a response. Mary sat and waited for quite some time after that. At least, she thought so. There wasn't a clock on the wall (no walls for that matter), or a sun, or stars, no tools to measure such a trivial thing. But she had found herself a rather comfortable looking chair and began counting the number of stripes in its armrest. She had gotten quite far, though she had the sneaking suspicion that more were adding themselves as she went, just to give her something to do. Finally, a breath on the back of her neck signaled the approach of the person who never was.

"It's time," the bodiless voice whispered into her ear. "And this is the best I can give you."

Then Mary saw a man. He wasn't there in front of her, or breathing on her neck, but he was as real as any of that – or more so. Blonde and blue-eyed, he was quite a bit older than she, and his entire right side was covered in scars. Something inside of him was broken, suffering. She could see it in his eyes, how his soul wrestled with itself, writhing with pain. Yet he was beautiful. Mary loved him. With every fiber of her timeless being, Mary yearned to be with this man.

She would find him.

She would fix him.

She would marry him.

"Jasper,"someone said into the newly onset darkness. It may have been Mary herself, or the voice, or someone else entirely – Mary never figured it out – but it was the last she remembered of The Waiting Place.

oOoOo

Edward spotted Jasper in the waiting room – he looked even younger in his street clothes – and the two ran out the door without a word. Edward automatically ran toward his own car, but stopped abruptly halfway across the lot.

"What's wrong?" Jasper asked him.

"We better take your car, so we can cut through traffic."

"No, we'll take yours. I was already in the family car when you called, and it sure as hell ain't no Vanquish." Jasper's tone was even and authoritative, leaving little room for suspicion.

And yet, Edward wondered… especially when the officer took the passenger seat.

"Which house?" he asked when they were close.

"That one. The blue." Jasper was out of the car before it had even stopped rolling, running up the ruinous brick steps and breaking down the door. "I've already called for backup!" he shouted, "But we can't wait that long!"

"Jasper…" Edward tried, but the kid was hard of hearing. "Officer Whitlock!" But Jasper continued to slam his shoulder into the door again and again.

"JASPER!" Finally, he stopped and took a look at Edward.

"What?"

Edward held up a little silver trinket. "I have the key."

"Oh…" he panted. "Good work."

Edward opened the door quickly, calling out that he was entering the house. He doubted anyone was inside, but didn't particularly want to get shot, either. A small portion of Edward's brain wondered why Jasper hadn't announced their presence. Wasn't that standard protocol or something? Come to that, what was with the trying to force open a door? Surely he, as a police officer, had more efficient means of entering a home uninvited than a bruised shoulder and brute force.

Questions ran rampant in Edward's mind while they searched the house for the secret cupboard, until finally he had to ask, "How old are you, _Officer _Whitlock?"

"Twenty-two," Jasper answered quickly. Too quickly. Edward shrugged and let it go. They had bigger problems.

"Here!" Jasper shouted suddenly, throwing a decorative table out of the way. He didn't seem too worried about collateral damage… maybe he _was _a Chicago police officer. "Gimme the keys… Give me the keys!"

Edward handed over Mary Anne's key chain, but it was immediately clear that none of them would fit. It was an old-fashioned lock that had apparently been taped or boarded shut on the inside so no one could see in.

_Or so Mary couldn't see what was going on in the living room. _Edward shuddered at the thought.

"Mary!" he called, feeling incredibly stupid for not having done so before now. "Mary, are you in there? My name is Edward Cullen, and I'm a doctor."

No answer.

"Your mother is at my hospital, Mary. She's sick and she needs y- Ow!"

"Way to scare her, dickhead," Jasper muttered under his breath.

"If it gets her to frickin' answer me," he stage-whispered back, rubbing his newly bruised arm.

"Mary, we're your friends! We want to help you!" Jasper tried.

"I'm sure she's never heard _that_ one before," Edward mumbled, earning himself another punch. "She must be unconscious," he concluded, ignoring Jasper in favor of becoming Doctor Cullen. Doctor Cullen saved lives a lot faster than Annoyed Edward. And this was a life he would save, he wouldn't entertain any other possibility. "Jasper, I need you to find a safer means of opening this door than your shoulder, got it?"

Jasper nodded and went in search of the fireplace poker he had spotted in a cluttered closet off the front room. Come to think of it, there were a lot of things in there they could probably use to pry with. By the time he returned, Edward had his medical kit prepared and was waiting patiently to use it, professional facade in place.

Jasper didn't waste any time digging the poker into the wall, prying the door right off its hinges. It was an old house, and he had probably used more force than necessary, but Edward understood; there was a young life at stake.

When the dust cleared and Edward could finally see, he couldn't hide his gasp. The space was so small… and dirty… and just… How could anyone do this to a child? How could Mary Anne Brandon have subjected her daughter to existing in this… hole, just to stay with her husband? It made Edward sick. Then again, he had never been a battered wife.

He allowed himself that split second of reaction and immediately regretted it; it was a split second too long. Turning on his flashlight, he very carefully moved himself over Mary's lifeless body into the space. It was a mess. She had been wearing the same diaper for three days, maybe longer, and the size of the cupboard left him within inches of excrement every which way.

Ignoring this, Edward reached to evaluate his patient. Her skin was porcelain, untouched, unfound by her father. If she was alive, he could likely move her without consequence… _if_ she was alive.

Tentatively, he reached for her tiny neck. It took him a moment, in his dread, to find the practiced ease he was used to, and in that moment he panicked. But then he felt it: a pulse. It was faint, and it was slowing, but it was present. That, he could work with.

"Move back!" he yelled to Jasper, gently lifting the baby from her own filth. He leaned down toward Mary's mouth, but Mary wasn't breathing. They'd gotten to her just in time. He hoped. Edward started modified CPR immediately. "You called nine-one-one?" He looked to Jasper pointedly.

"Yes!" He answered, then re-thought. "I mean... I called it in on the-"

"Forget that!" Edward barked impatiently. "Did you really call?"

"Of course," Jasper looked scandalized for a moment, but Edward couldn't be bothered. So long as help was really coming, he didn't care about Jasper's feelings.

"Twenty- Fucking- Two," Edward muttered in time with his compressions. He worked on her and worked on her, and still she wasn't breathing. Minutes had gone by, hours, quite possibly. Where was the ambulance? Where was his backup?

He checked her pulse. Non-existent.

"Oh hell no," he said aloud to no one in particular.

"Edward," Jasper hedged. "Edward, I think."

"NO!"

"It's been almost five minutes, and I think I hear sirens."

"Good!"

"The thing is, I'm not actually suppos-"

"Go then!" Edward yelled, leaning down to administer breaths. "You found the girl and brought a doctor, your part in this is over."

Jasper dithered near the back door, looking sadly down at Mary's unconscious body. "I really thought…" he started, but couldn't find it in him to finish.

"I'll cover for you, just go!" Edward could hear the sirens now too, and it gave him the oddest feeling of doom. Like if Mary wasn't awake by the time the sirens stopped, she never would be again.

"Edward, I-"

"Goodbye, Jasper!" Edward yelled, leaning down again, but screamed out an obscenity when he was met with open eyes. "Mary? Mary, can you hear me?"

"Mary?" Jasper was back, not having gone very far, peering over Edward's shoulder into the dull but conscious eyes of a very lucky three-year-old.

"Jas-per…" she said, apparently repeating Edward's word, the first she had heard upon waking. And yet, both men couldn't help but notice that she held Jasper's stare as she did so.

oOoOo

Edward made his statement to the police, claiming to have been told where to find Mary by her mother - of her own free will - and called 911 himself.

"But I couldn't just wait around, ya know?" he told the officers. "I knew where she was, and I knew I could get there faster, so I went, and I'm incredibly glad that I did."

He was happy they'd bought it, and even happier when they didn't investigate further; he hadn't had time to warn Angela yet. He anticipated being brought in front of the medical board for questioning, but knew they couldn't touch him. Edward's first duty as a doctor was to save lives, and with the express verbal consent of the home owner and mother of the child in question (which she could confirm as soon as she was once again conscious), he had done his job.

Jasper evaded all questions. In fact, Jasper sort of disappeared into the shadows after leaving the Brandon's kitchen. Edward asked around, but no one he knew had ever heard of a Jasper, let alone a Jasper Whitlock. Edward toyed with the idea that Jasper was an angel, sent to save Mary's life, then move on. He immediately dismissed the notion as foolish and vowed to see him again some day. How he'd manage it, he didn't know, but it felt an attainable goal.

A few days passed, and things settled down some. Edward visited the pediatric wing often to check on Mary's progress. She was still unconscious, but it was mostly pharmaceutical causes now. Mary had been dirty, dehydrated, starved, and generally unable to sustain her own life any longer. If it had been winter and she'd been stuck in that crawl space…

Edward refused to consider it.

Mary Ann was the first to wake. Her throat had healed enough that she was able to breathe on her own, though she still received the bulk of her nutrients through various tubes. Had she tried to swallow so much as a mashed potato in her condition, it would have meant agony. Speech came slowly – she had to force out each word – but the doctors encouraged her to work up to it, slowly.

One afternoon, though his time with her had passed, Edward went to Mary Ann, as he had each day since her daughter was found, to update her on Mary's condition. He looked forward to their talks almost as much as she seemed to. Every day, she would flesh out a little more of their story for him, everything that had led to this hospital bed. He especially enjoyed the tales of young Alice. Barely three, and she was already one of the most outrageous personalities he'd never encountered.

"Dr. Cullen." Mary Ann's greeting smile was lazy and drugged, but ever-present where Edward was concerned.

"Edward, please," he corrected, though he knew she wouldn't listen. He went on to give a full report of Mary's recovery, which was looking better all the time.

She would be awake soon, and most likely out of bed. At her age, strength would return quickly – especially once she started eating solid foods – and it was extremely difficult to convince a small child that, though they _felt _well, they shouldn't be running around just yet. Sugar would be banned until she was fully rehabilitated.

"If all goes well," Edward concluded, "you'll be able to see your daughter's smiling face day after tomorrow."

At this, Mary Ann began to cry. Edward assumed they were happy tears until she let out a wail and began to sob uncontrollably. His hand was inches from the call button when she finally spoke.

"I can't," she said with vigor. "I can't see her after what I've done."

Edward patted Mary Ann on the hand, completely at a loss. "I can understand how this might be difficult for you, but you're not at fault here, Mrs. Brandon."

"_Don't_ use that name! It's _his_ name."

"All right, Mary Ann," Edward amended. "It's not your fault. You were doing what was best for Mary and, unfortunately, things went further than expected. Much, much further than they'd ever gone before. You had no way of anticipating this, of preventing it. The fact that you're still alive is nothing short of a miracle, and I have to believe that you pulled through on purpose, to save your daughter's life.

"And you did, you know. You saved her. First by keeping her out of harms way, and then by staying alive to help us find her."

"_You _saved her," Mary Ann argued. "_I _put her in danger. I stayed. I wasn't strong enough for her. I should have left. For her."

She went into a coughing fit after that – her vocal chords had reached their limit – and Edward called the nurse to sedate her before she caused permanent damage.

oOoOo

It was very early in the morning, or perhaps very late at night, when Edward got the call.

"Dr. Cullen?" A panicked voice stage whispered into the phone.

"Angela?" he replied, sleepily.

"Dr. Cullen… Edward… Can you—"

_FIND HIM! _Someone yelled in the background. _GET ME CULLEN!_

"Who was that?" Edward asked, suddenly alert. At that moment his pager went off, telling him that he was required urgently at the hospital, though he wasn't on call.

"Caius," she answered simply.

The hospital administrator was screaming for him in the middle of the night on his day off. Edward had a bad feeling about this.

"I'll be right in," he said, despite his better judgment.

It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the hospital. For fifteen minutes he envisioned everything from an arrest warrant to a dead patient. He sincerely hoped it wasn't the latter, but given his line of work, it was a real possibility.

There were no officers waiting with handcuffs when he walked through the door, and Edward let himself feel relief. And when no one gave him that look of pity, the one they gave when a doctor had done his best but still the patient had died, he allowed himself to hope. When he turned the corner into Caius' purple face, hope fled with relief just behind, leaving fear and confusion in their place.

"Would you care to explain?" Caius asked.

Edward, who had no idea what he was talking about, stayed silent.

"Come," Caius commanded and turned heel.

Edward caught up quickly and began to panic when he realized where they were headed: Mary's room. When they entered, there were the policemen he'd been waiting for, but none of them seemed all that interested in him. They were dusting for fingerprints and taking statements from the children in the room. Mary was nowhere to be found.

"She's gone," Caius said, seeming to address Edward's thoughts. "But she left this with the kid." He shoved a letter, written in perfectly elegant script, into Edward's hands. Mary could never have written this. And then he heard it, and though he'd only heard her speak once before, Edward knew it was Mary's voice.

"Knigh'!" she yelled, running out from where she'd been hidden from view by two somber looking officers. "Say me, knigh'. Say me."

_Save me, knight. Save me. _Edward heard clearly, though he wasn't sure everyone could. Had they been confused, Mary cleared things up for them by running directly into Edward's arms – which he had instinctively held open to her.

Caius raised a brow as Edward hefted her onto his hip, but said nothing. He pointed at Edward's free hand, still clutching the letter, and moved to speak with the officers who surveyed the scene with undisguised interest. One of them was scribbled furiously onto a pad he'd pulled from his breast pocket.

Edward moved to a chair in the corner of the room. Mary automatically adjusted herself so that she was laying on his chest, hugging his neck, and instantly fell asleep. With no other distractions, the letter was calling to him, and he raised it up to eye level, though he both feared and suspected what it might say.

_Dr. Cullen, Edward,_

_Forgive me._

_I am sorry. I never imagined that I would do something like this. Then again, I never imagined a lot of things for my life. But what I do now, I do for her and for her only. For years I have done what I thought was best for me and allowed my daughter to suffer for it. Caused her suffering with my own mouth and hands. She is better off without me._

_This world is better off without me._

_Selfish as I am, I do have some final requests: _

_She was born Mary Alice Brandon. Mary for her mother. Brandon for her father. Neither of us deserve this honor, just as she does not deserve to be named for filth such as we. Please remedy this._

_Do not speak of me in her presence. Should she ask, make her believe that I was but a figment of her imagination, a nightmare. When she asks for me, make her believe that I am not wanted. When she mourns for me, help her understand that I am not to be missed. Say what you must to make her let go. I do not wish for her to grow up knowing that I have abandoned her nor awaiting my return. It will never come._

_Darling Dr. Cullen – Sir Cullen, they should call you, for that is who you are: a knight in shining armor. My final wish is my dearest, and also the most burdensome. You saved her when I could not, and I pray that you will continue in that tradition. Do not abandon her as I have. Love her as you would your own. Raise her well (I know you will) and show her what a true family is. If you can not or will not accept this responsibility, I understand, but I am trusting you to find her a good home regardless. _

_Do not let her down._

_In return I promise that I will never come back for her. Whether it be with you – as I hope – or with another worthy soul, the family she finds now will be hers in every way that has meaning, and I will do nothing to disrupt that or call it into question. _

_She is yours now, Dr. Cullen. Edward. And I will be forever grateful for whatever part you play. You have already done too much._

_Eternally in your debt,_

_Mary Ann Brandon_

Edward read and re-read the letter Mary Ann wrote. It didn't make any sense. She wanted _him _to adopt her child? She expected _him _to raise her as his own? He was a bachelor. Even better, he was a doctor, a fairly green doctor. New doctors had very little time. There was an initiation of sorts, into the medical world, that included a lot of late nights and hard lessons learned.

A new, _single _doctor had even less freedom than most. In addition to the grunt work and spill-over patients, they were given the most inconvenient shifts, simply because everyone knew they had no family to go home to. Edward wasn't sure he could handle a healthy relationship right now, let alone single fatherhood. Until he could open his own practice, afford to set his own hours, Edward could not have a child. Not even one as sweet and beautiful as Mary.

It wouldn't be fair to her, he reasoned. She deserved more than he could give her. She deserved a family. She deserved a mother and father, a brother, like he'd had – a full support system already in place for whatever life threw at her.

Mary deserved… the Cullens.

Before he could even think that thought through, an officer with A. VOLTURI embroidered on his shirt stepped up to Edward for questioning. He spoke in a hushed whisper so as not to wake the child, but his tone was decidedly accusatory.

"How did you know Mary Ann Brandon?" he asked, almost angrily. "What is your relationship with this child? Has the father been in contact with you?"

On and on the questions went, interspersed with vague warnings like, "I know what you're thinking" and "You can't hide the truth." The longer he spoke, the wilder Officer Volturi's theories became. It was almost as if he _wanted _Edward to be at fault for something. Every now and then he would huff and look defeated, only to come up with some other crazy possibility.

"Do you own, or have you ever worn an angel costume?" he asked once, and Edward laughed in his face. He couldn't help it.

Despite their idiocy, Edward answered all of the questions as best he could, seeing no reason to lie. He barely knew the mother, and had had almost no contact with the child whatsoever. Frank Brandon was just a name he'd heard on the news; Mary Ann had never even mentioned it, as though it were taboo. Finally, Officer Volturi ran out of ridiculous questions and started giving Edward some answers.

"Mary tells us that an angel came to her in her sleep and told her that you, Dr. Edward Cullen, are her real father. That you were a knight, who had saved her, and planned to take her away to a magical castle where she would live with her real family, as a princess, for the rest of her life."

Edward gulped. Suddenly the costume question didn't seem so ridiculous. But, knowing what he did about Mary Ann and her daughter's preference for fairy tales, Edward had a good idea of what had happened. She had come to this room and spoken to Mary as she slept. She told her a story about Edward, one that would help her embrace her new life and let go of the old one. He told the officer as much.

"Yeah, that's what we figured, too," Officer Volturi said with a sigh.

"You did? But why-"

"Had to make sure we were right, didn't we?" He was much more relaxed now. "You coulda' been a pedophile, or a kidnapper. We got no proof yet that this letter was written by the woman. Mighta' been the father, mighta' been _you_. Can never be too careful with kids, ya know?"

Edward nodded absently.

"So…" the officer spoke after a moment, getting Edward's attention. "You gonna adopt the kid, or what?"

"I… You'd just _hand _her over to me?" Edward asked, slightly appalled.

"Course not. Just wonderin' if you'd try. Was her mother's last wish, after all." The officer motioned to the letter, now settled on Edward's lap. Only then did he realize that it was just a photocopy; the original was probably in an evidence bag.

"I don't think so," Edward said sadly. The officer looked shocked and… disappointed? "But I think I have a better idea."

oOoOo

Edward had barely gotten the full request out before Esme was screaming "YES!" He suggested that she talk it over with Carlisle, but she shushed him.

"When can we meet her?" she asked, almost frantic. "Can she come here, or do we have to go there? How long will this take? Oh My God, I'm going to have a daughter! Put her on the phone!"

Unlike Officer Volturi, Esme didn't pause to let Edward answer. She hardly even paused to breathe.

"No, Mom, she's sleeping. I don't know how long it'll take, but you'll probably have to come here. I doubt you'll have any trouble, but you might want to get a lawyer, just in case."

"We have a lawyer, Edward. You father is a doctor for Christ's sake. People can be greedy liars, and we have to protect ourselves."

Edward felt a little stupid; he didn't have a lawyer. Though, the way his mother explained it, he felt it was something he should look into. Immediately.

When Mary awoke and looked up at Edward, the first words out of her mouth were, "Are you my daddy?"

Edward laughed nervously, thinking of running away and Dr. Seuss simultaneously. "No," he finally decided. "I am… your brother. And I'm here to take you _to _your mother and father."

"I has a mommy," Mary argued, but there was no conviction in it. It was as though she was already doubting her reality.

Edward patiently explained that she had not yet met her mother. He was also careful never to call her by name. It wasn't his place to change it, as he was not her parent, yet he couldn't help but want to honor her mother's wishes. The woman might be dead – she'd hinted as much – and though he felt it wrong to demonize her, he was also honor bound to stick to the letter. It was with a heavy heart that he lied to Mary, made her mother – a loving but misguided soul – into a wicked witch.

He had no qualms with making Frank into a monster. He hardly had to fib.

Carlisle and Esme turned up so quickly he wondered if they'd taken up teleportation. Carlisle, as it turned out, was entirely enthusiastic at the idea of a young daughter. Either that, or he did whatever Esme wanted – Edward could never be sure.

There was some red tape to get through. Not enough to be discouraging, but enough to make a nuisance of itself. In the end though, the courts decided what Edward knew all along: Carlisle and Esme Cullen were perfectly acceptable parents.

In just a few weeks, Mary Alice Brandon became Alice Marie Cullen. The only trouble was convincing her that this was the case.

She accepted the news of her parents easily enough – the fact that neither of her "first parents" were present was enough for her to believe that they hadn't really been family – but she steadfastly refused to be Alice.

"My name Mary!" she would shout whenever someone tried. Eventually, everyone got to calling her "Princess."

Edward followed them to Washington, just to be sure that she settled in nicely. She seemed to have accepted that Carlisle and Esme were her "real" parents, but never wanted to leave Edward's side. Whether it was him saving her life or Mary Ann's words, no one ever knew, but the princess was stuck like glue to her hero.

The first night in her new home, the princess fell asleep next to Edward. When she awoke alone in the night, she screamed bloody murder. Carlisle ran to her, but she kicked at him until he gave up and called for Esme. Perhaps she was afraid of men?

Esme came and met the same flailing limbs as her husband.

"Knigh' Knigh!" she cried out, over and over again. Edward finally heard from his place on the third floor, and hurried down as fast as he could. He had simply gone to get himself a change of clothes, but she had noticed his absence immediately.

"No leaf, knigh'" she sobbed into his chest when he'd finally calmed her. "No leaf Mary."

"I won't leave you, princess," he promised. "I'm your brother, and I love you. Mommy and Daddy love you too."

She hardly glanced at Carlisle and a tearful Esme, but nodded anyway.

"What can we do, Edward?" Esme whispered to him frantically once the girl had gone back to sleep. "She isn't comfortable with anyone but you. She won't… listen to anyone but you. How can she ever learn to trust us if she won't even let us near? She'll never love me," Esme sobbed into her husband's shoulder.

"Don't say that," Edward comforted. "She's just a little girl who's gone through something terrible. She doesn't even fully trust me, if you haven't noticed. She's afraid that I'll leave her behind at any moment. We just have to prove to her that we're family."

It was weeks before Edward was able to finally sleep alone, and that was only because his little princess had fallen asleep in Esme's lap as she told the heroic tales of Princess Alice, hoping her new daughter would take a liking to the name. Edward offered to take her off his mother's hands – almost literally – but Esme clung tight.

"She's fine right here," she whispered resolutely, and Carlisle brought them a quilt.

After that night, it was easier. Waking up in her new mother's arms seemed to be the tipping point. Each night, Esme wove tales of Princess Alice, locked in a tower by an evil pair who pretended to be her parents, while her true family – Queen Esme and King Carlisle – prayed for her safe return. Whenever the brave, handsome knight was mentioned, the child would cry, "Sir Ewar!" And by the time the princess had been rescued, she would snuggle into Esme's chest and drift, contentedly, to sleep.

Every now and then, Esme would include Emmett the Jester and Lady Rosalie, his fair maiden, in the stories. Their living counterparts hadn't visited, too afraid that Emmett's size and perhaps just adding _more_ may be overwhelming to the girl. By then, though, she understood that all of the characters in her fairy tale were real and was asking to meet the pair. Emmett sounded very funny to her, and she wanted, more than anything, to see someone as beautiful as Lady Rosalie in person.

"Soon," she was promised. "Very soon."

Carlisle and Esme taught her new games as well. Sometimes Edward played; sometimes he did not. She always had fun, regardless.

The day Carlisle went back to work was difficult.

"Daddy leaf?"

"Daddy has to leave, princess. But Daddy will come back."

"NO!"

Carlisle leaned down and gently held her face in his hands, and, looking her straight in the eyes he said, "I, King Carlisle, do hereby swear to you, Princess Alice"-she opened her mouth to object, but Carlisle continued over her- "that I shall return to this castle when Mickey Mouse is over." He glanced pointedly to his son, to be sure he understood.

"Pomis?" she asked, not seeming to hold any hope.

"Promise," he said, then kissed her once on the forehead and walked out.

She watched the door all day. She didn't want to eat or play, and she only half-heartedly listened to her mother's stories. There was no exclamation of "Ewar!" In fact, she didn't even pay attention to the real thing. Her preference for Edward had been eclipsed by the fear that Daddy wouldn't come home.

At 4:15, Edward put the Mickey tape in. It was exactly one hour long, but he knew that she would insist on fast forwarding through the previews and wouldn't count the credits. She watched as though Mickey held the answer to the meaning of life, the only thing she had focused on, aside from the front door, all day.

When Mickey awoke from his dream, rubbing his eyes in his familiar manner, just before the end credits began to roll, she was lifted from her seat and spun around in circles.

"Daddy!" she yelled, both delighted and surprised.

She never doubted again.

Her next bad day wasn't too far off. Daddy had left for work and Mommy was doing the laundry. Edward was making the princess breakfast when she accidentally knocked over the milk.

"Shit." Edward couldn't help but curse as the cold liquid saturated his groin. He immediately regretted his reaction when his sister's eyes went wide and she ran from the room crying. "Shit," he mumbled again.

Edward ran throughout the house, searching for his little princess, but she was nowhere to be found. He called for her by name, then remembered she wouldn't answer to it, and so he simply called for "Princess." When he saw that she wasn't in the living room, the den, or her own little-used bedroom, Edward got an idea.

There was a closet near the staircase. It wasn't a dirt-floored crawlspace, but it was small and dark, and filled with old coats. He hoped against hope that she would know better, but his heart nearly broke when he found her curled up behind the boots.

"I din't mean to," she whispered repeatedly. "I din't mean to be bad."

"Shh… it's okay, princess."

"NO!" she protested. "Mary. No Alice. No pincess." She pulled on a sweater until the entire hanger came down on her, but she didn't move or even make a sound as it covered her face. "Super, seekit, pie," she whispered.

Suddenly, Edward understood the real problem with her name, and simultaneously, the real need to change it.

Slowly, patiently, he removed the sweater from her head. When she looked confused rather than panicked, he lifted her in his arms and carried her back out to the living room.

"Your name is Alice Marie Cullen," he told her, holding her close. She didn't say a thing, just looked up at him with wide, bewildered eyes. "Alice Marie Cullen is a princess, and even princesses have accidents. But accidents don't make you bad. Accidents don't get punished."

"You say, you say…" she struggled.

"I said a bad word," Edward acknowledged. "That was an accident too. But that was _my _accident, and it wasn't your fault."

"Mary-"

"Mary is not your real name," he reiterated. "The people who called you Mary were bad. They wanted you to think you did bad things so they could punish you. Bad people like to punish. But you are not Mary, you are Alice. And you can not be bad by accident. If you are bad on purpose, you _will _be punished, but you will never – _Never – Ever – _have to go to the closet again. Do you understand?"

She nodded, but Edward wasn't convinced.

"What are you?"

"Pincess?" she answered, apparently unsure.

"And princesses have accidents. But are princesses _punished _for accidents?"

"No?"

"No," he confirmed. "Do accidents make you bad?"

"… No." She hesitated, but her response was more assured.

"No, they do not. But what if you _are _bad?"

"No bad." She shook her head from side-to-side, as if refuting the very possibility.

Edward chuckled. "Okay. Never be bad. But just in case, if you _were _bad, do you think you would have to go in the closet?"

"No hide?" She asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Edward was glad they had never brought up hide-and-go-seek before and made a mental note to mention it to his parents. "No hiding."

"Ever?"

"Never."

"The bad man..." She started to cry again, hiding her head in her hands.

"The bad man is gone, Alice. You never have to hide from him again."

"Ever?" she repeated, finally looking up.

"Never. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you're here, with your family. With Mommy and Daddy and Edward, and we love you. And you're going to meet Uncle Emmett, and he loves you too. The bad man is scared of love, and he knows that we'll always be here to protect you."

"All-ays?"

"Always and forever, and the day after that."

Esme came running into the room then, tears streaming down her face.

"Oh, Edward, that was so beautiful!" She cried, then grabbed her daughter and kissed all over her face.

oOoOo

The time had come, and Emmett couldn't be put off any longer. He told his parents that he had big news he needed to share, so he hoped his little sister was ready for him.

And it might just have been the fact that he was painted so wonderfully in Esme's stories, but it seemed that their fears about Emmett had been needless. He swooped right in and grabbed his new sister, tossing her in the air and playing helicopter without so much as an introduction. To general astonishment, she giggled and yelled out "Jester!" as she swung through the air.

"Told ya' she'd love me!" he said when he'd finally exhausted himself completely, but no one was paying attention to him.

"I've always wanted a daughter," Esme was saying between sobs, "and suddenly I have two." She was holding Rosalie's left hand in hers, having seen the evidence of Emmett's "big news" before he'd had the chance to reveal it. He was slightly put out by this, but happy that everyone was happy.

"Come on, little one," he sighed. "Meet my future wife."

To a chorus of "awws" the princess curtsied before the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

"La'y Rose-lee," she greeted. "I… am Pincess Alice."

And so she was.

* * *

**So... how was it?**

**I sincerely wish I had the talent to write the way I think. If I could, you'd be crying. Just sayin'.  
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**Those of you who have me on alert might know that I gave Alice's story it's own place called "Becoming Alice" It is, in essence, a prequel to "Slumbering Swan". If you've never been there, it's exactly the same as this, only in smaller installments as I wrote them (as it was more appropriate over there) and I may or may not add a future take. **

**So, put "Becoming Alice" on alert if you're curious how she runs into Jasper. (And that _really will_ be just a small, little outtake... I think.)**


	6. Sequel!

**Just wanted to announce to all the followers/fans of this story... that I love you!**

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**Also, I've started a future-take sequel!**

It's a mini-series beginning eighteen years after _Slumbering Swan _ends and was originally intended to be a one shot. Just like the Alice story was supposed to be a one shot. So if you liked _Slumbering Swan _and _Becoming Alice (_included in _Swan_ as extras), then please mosey on over to my profile and give _And They All Lived..._ a shot. Here's the summary and a tiny sampling to (hopefully) pique your interest:

**Summary**

**Sir Edward has had his fair maiden for the better part of two decades. Their first marriage may or may not have been officiated by Elvis, but this time they're doing it right. Alice is only slightly jealous. After all, she is still very young: a fact the men she loves seem to love to exploit. And though Edward set out to save his family, he is not the true hero of this story.**

******Sample**

"It's great to-" Edward started to speak, but Alice let out a high-pitched squeal and launched herself through the air and on top of Bella. Literally. The impact knocked the usually unstable Bella onto her back with Alice falling right along with her.

The pair giggled uncontrollably as they lay there, unable to stop long enough to stand. Their laughter doubled when Edward squatted down next to them and started asking Bella questions like, "Do you know what day it is?" while feeling for lumps on her head.

"Seriously, Edward?" Bella asked between fits. "I thought we were over this. It's been eighteen years."

"Edward get over something?" said Emmett from the sidelines. "Maybe she did hit her head."

"As long as you have a brain, I'll be here to protect it." Edward helped his wife and sister up from the asphalt and immediately started conducting tests. Bella, quite used to living with an overprotective neurologist, dutifully followed his finger from side to side without so much as an eye roll. Rosalie wasn't as tolerant.

"I'd say she's been brainless since the day she said, 'I do.'"

"Her MRI's would suggest otherwise," said Edward seriously. "Seems okay, but any pain or dizziness…"

"And I'll report it immediately to my doctor," she finished and kissed him. "Please try not to worry so much."

Edward huffed and scrubbed at his face. "No sense of self-preservation."


	7. Author News No Update (Don't Hate Me)

So, first of all, sorry about the note. Please don't hate me. I just have an update to me-my writing in general- and I promise to only post it once on my most popular story (Slumbering Swan). Well, technically it's already posted as an end AN on my current project... but I won't be bumping any more previous titles with just this. Swear.

I've been working on the sequel to Slumbering Swan, And They All Lived. It's posting slowly. I also uploaded a JxE OS a little bit ago. Very naughty indeed. And then about a month ago, I got a new goal, that momentarily superseded even finishing a WIP or writing promised extras.

You may or may not know (probably not) that I wrote a novel in real life. I shopped it around a bit, got very little interest (and even the encouraging remarks ended with "But it's not for me. Good luck!") so I gave up fairly quickly. Mostly because I wasn't confident it was ready after a few constructive remarks. Really, the major issue is the beginning. I can't write a hook to save my life. A few people have read it. If you can find them, you can ask them what they think. Anyway, I let it die after that, thinking I'd figure it all out on that proverbial "someday." That was over a year ago.

A month or so ago, I was surfing the interwebs when post from a one Nick Thomas (lead singer of The Spill Canvas, my favorite band in the universe) caught my eye. The band is taking a break, and he's recording a solo album, funded solely through Kickstarter. I made my way in, intending to earn myself an album and a t-shirt, but the $250 tier caught my eye. "I will write you a personalized song." (60 seconds)

Now, I know he meant a little egocentric ditty, sixty seconds of "Katherine loves unicorns" set to strumming and the like, and I really don't need that. Nor do I have the money for it. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought abut asking to bend the rules. My love interest is a musician, you see, and I've written a couple of songs for him. One of which was largely (completely) inspired by The Spill Canvas. It's the song that helps my main finally realize that he loves her, and I always thought it'd be so cool (and so unrealistic) to have someone actually record the song and give it out with the book (or at least have it as an extra on a website). And here I have a chance to ask the very man who inspired me, the one whose voice I was hearing anyway, to be the one that records it. Sure it would be over sixty seconds, and yeah I'd have to have permission to distribute it. Not to mention personally email someone I consider to be unattainably famous and ask for a favor/barter that I feared he would find demeaning and/or demanding.

I was so _fucking_ nervous (excuse my French), but I did ask.

And he said, "Yes." (after a little clarifying back and forth... We had a back and forth!)

After I stopped screaming and telling everyone I knew (A co-worker asked me if I'd just gotten engaged. No lie.), I pledged to polish my novel, publish by any means necessary, and make sure that I haven't spent $250 in vain. The man is willing to make my dream come true, and now I have to do my part. Even if only 12 people I know ever read this book and hear my song (sung by _Nick Fucking Thomas!_), this HAS to happen.

And that's what I've been doing. Editing and re-writing my brains out on an original novel I hope to either get representation for or publish by the end of the year, even if I have to do it myself.

So, that's my plug. Not for me. But for him. If you'd like to help Nick Thomas, The Spill Canvas, or awesome guys who are willing to help their fans in return, please visit the Nick Thomas Kickstarter, linked on my profile. It ends May 8th (only a week to go!). And hey, mention Alexis from Denver sent you and maybe I'll get a little extra oomph in my song. (Probably not, though lol)

And if you don't want to donate, I totally respect that. Check out his music. Become a fan yourself. Look for his album - and my book! - in the future!

As always, thank you for reading. I love you all and appreciate every Alert and Review I receive.


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